


Paper Doll

by little_calico



Category: Guilt Pleasure - Works
Genre: First Time, ITW A/U, M/M, Supernatural/Fantasy, Vampirism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7432364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_calico/pseuds/little_calico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katsuya Asano received a cryptic message from his estranged grandfather suddenly, after decades of silence.  The note urged Katsuya to seek him out at an address posted in the letter.  Although his father had forbade him to go to his grandfather since he was a child, curiosity seized him.   Once there, he found himself at odds with the handsome master of an estate with very little to say to him.</p><p>Very A/U.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

            He tried his best not to notice the unsettling sense of anxiety that was slowly rising from the pit of his stomach.  He didn’t like it when he didn’t understand what he was suppose to do.  He didn’t like to deal with people he didn’t know.  Even if it was a relative. 

            But it was a relative he had no memory of. 

             Katsuya Asano glanced over to the passenger seat of his car and looked at the corner of the tan envelope that had stuck out from a bundle of manila folder.

             The letter had been delivered to his work five days ago, certified.  The sender was a name that he had only heard his father mention twice in his lifetime.  Katsuya’s grandfather.  Until Katsuya was eight and overheard his father say that name – Katsuya had always assumed his grandfather had deceased.  The second time he heard the name again, was when Katsuya casually broached the subject of his grandfather next day.  He wanted to know why they’ve never met.  The grimace that came over his father’s face then was troubling.

             “You are not to ask about him again,” his father said.  “And if someday…”

             There was a pause - a reluctance to continue, as if his father knew if he said more, there would only be stirrings of curiosity to follow. 

             “If someday he tried to contact you, you are not to go to him, understand?”

             Katsuya only nodded.  It was an easy promise to make over a man he’d never known.  That was 14 years ago and since, his father had passed.

             Then the letter came and all the questions came to him again. 

Katsuya’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. 

             _What am I doing...?_

That was a repeated thought and the flickers of guilt that came with disobeying his father’s wish, as he drove toward the address posted on the letter.  There had been only a date he’s requested to appear at an address far Upstate New York and nothing more.  Yet Katsuya was compelled to go to it.  Perhaps driven by the hushed mystery of why his grandfather was someone no one spoke about.  Why he hadn’t been in his life and suddenly, asked for him. 

             _Why would you want to see me? I don’t know you…_

             He had contemplated showing his uncle the letter first.  Katsuya had decided against it only because he knew he would be talked out of it.  He needed to know.  Even if it was peering into a Pandora’s box and he would be worse off for it – he needed to know so he could put this behind him.  At least, that was what he reasoned.

             An unfamiliar song came over the radio and he stabbed at the buttons and changed the station.  He was hungry, thirsty and he missed his bed.  He had been on the road for two days.

After a brief stop at a greasy diner half-filled with truck drivers, Katsuya felt a little better.  Although he regretted having the burnt coffee.  It kept him awake at least.  By the time he felt the caffeine wear off, the sun had already set and the splashes of blue had replaced the glow of the horizon.  He could see the outline of the mansion in the distance.  A lone estate without neighboring housing for nearly 10 miles around.

            Katsuya parked his car next to the immense iron-wrought gate.  He wasn’t certain what to do next.  He stood in front of the gate for awhile and stared at the span of the mansion that was about a quarter mile away.  There were clusters of pine along the cobble stone driveway and not much else.  Not much color to frame the house except the gray and the dull green.

            He hadn’t even noticed the intercom until he heard the static came over it as it was switched on and a man’s voice asked if he wanted something.

            “My name is Katsuya Asano,” he began.  “I – " 

            The speaker hung up the speaker with a click and a metallic snap that disengaged the lock to the gates.  The iron gates slowly opened inward, the low hum of the motor accompanying it.

            “Nice to meet you too,” Katsuya said under his breath as he returned to his sedan.  For no particular reason, he was annoyed with the cold, brisk way he was greeted.  Then he quickly dismissed his annoyance with his fatigue.

            As he coasted along the cobble stone road that rattled his ride – the view of the mansion became clearer.  Most of the mansion windows were dark with its curtain drawn to the side.  The estate felt lifeless and empty – and as cold as he was greeted.  There was a sanitized display of wealth that lacked power, he thought.  He regretted giving into the request from a man that he _knew_ would be as frigid as this property.

            When he reached the end of the driveway, the headlights panned to a man waiting. The man’s face was shrouded by the dark but Katsuya knew he was young.  The white shirt the man wore was neatly tucked into the fitted pants; three top buttons undone with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  The man came to his driver side window as Katsuya parked.  His longish hair was a shade of brownish-red.

            “Just leave the keys in the ignition,” the man said to him and gave him a smile.  “I’ll take care of it.” 

            “Sure…”           

            The man opened the door for Katsuya.

            “Walter will show you to the dining room, Mr. Asano,” the man said.  “Master has been waiting for you there for two hours now.”

            “I didn’t know I had a timeline to meet.” 

            “Nothing like that,” the man said and pointed toward left of him.  “That’s the main entrance.  Walter is waiting for you inside.  I’ll take your bags up to your room.”

            “Thank you,” Katsuya said, returning the polite smile and extended his hand forward.  “You are –“ 

            The man’s smile grew and took Katsuya’s hand and shook it.  The grip was firm and the warmth in it was gentle.

            “No one important around here,” he said.  “But I am Kenji Shinohara.  Please go on along, I will see you soon again.”

            Shinohara squeezed Katsuya’s hand again before letting it go. 

 

            Shinohara’s warm handshake lingered in the hollow of his hand, even as he stepped through the doors of the mansion.  The cold was instant.  A wall of it.  As he stood in the doorway, he felt small – staring up at the antique iron stairwell that spiraled up three floors.  An immense chandelier made from diamond-shaped crystals dropped from the ceiling and hung down two floors.  The gray and white marble that tiled the floor that felt naked without a rug.  The sparse furniture that made the space even emptier and pulled the height of the room even taller.  The walls were painted a shade of dark red.  No pictures.  Nothing.

            “Hello Master Asano,” a voice, soft and gentle said beside him. 

            Katsuya looked to the speaker and found himself looking at an old man in a butler outfit. 

            “My name is Walter,” he said, bowing from the waist.  “I will be guiding you to the dining room.”

            “To see…my grandfather?” Katsuya said.  “Please call me Katsuya… Master Asano makes me feel old.” 

            Walter smiled. 

            “Not your grandfather,” Walter said, fanning one arm out and gesturing with his gloved hand.  “With the Master of the house.”

            “Who is…?”

            Walter lead the way and Katsuya followed.  While the butler’s immaculately shined leather shoes made almost no sound on the polished stone floor – Katsuya’s heels echoed.

            “He will introduce himself to you,” Walter said.  

            “I see,” was all Katsuya could think to say, as he walked steps behind the old man – surveying the curious surrounding as he did so.

 

            The Master of the house wasn’t someone he knew.  Not even in passing.  And when he introduced himself, the name meant nothing to him.  The man was handsome.  Years older than him but considerably young for a Master of a vast estate. There was a tint of red in his eyes that made Katsuya stare.

             “Oculocutaneous,” David Krause simply said.  “A form of albinism that affected my eyes.”

             Katsuya nodded and sat down where David had gestured for him to.  Along the immense oak dining room table that seated thirty – there was only one plate and silverware on a white silk place mat to the right of David. 

             “I don’t mean to stare,” Katsuya said. 

             “It’s nothing,” David said.  He sat back down in his seat.  He had been there – waiting, as Kenji had said.  There was a half glass of white wine beside a near empty crystal decanter. 

             Then there were silence.  Walter had left.  It was until David pulled Katsuya’s wine glass to him and emptied the decanter that Katsuya finally spoke.

             “I am not sure what is going on,” he said.  His voice was low but it was loud in the ample room.  “But…am I to meet my grandfather here?”

             “What do you know about your grandfather,” David asked, sliding the wine glass to Katsuya. 

             “Not very much.  No one spoke about him in my family.”

             “Yet you are here,” David said.  He had a small smile on his face.

             “He is…still family, I suppose,” Katsuya said.  He kept his eyes on the wine glass.  “I want to know what I was…”

             When Katsuya didn’t continue, David said it for him.

             “Protected from?”

             “Not the words I’d use.”

             David’s smile only grew.  He said nothing more as he drained the wine from his glass.

             “How are you connected to him?” Katsuya said.  He had reached toward his wine glass but only stopped and tucked his hands back onto his lap when he realized he was shaking.  David noticed.

             “He was someone I knew,” he said.  “Long time ago.”

             Before he could muster enough courage for another question, Walter came back.  This time, he pushed a silver service cart with domed plates of food.  Two fresh bottles of wine were steeped in an ice bucket.

             As they were served, no words were exchanged.  And although he had been hungry earlier – Katsuya looked at the food without appetite.  Suddenly he didn’t want to be there anymore and he didn’t know how to excuse himself.  The only thing that made him remain seated there was Walter. Although the old man said nothing as he stood to the side, knowing there’s someone else there made Katsuya felt better. 

             But the dinner was awkward.  Silent mostly, with only the slightest clatter of the silverware against the plate that echoed in dining hall.  Katsuya kept his eyes on the slices of steak on his plate most of the time – raking the tips of his fork over the rareness of the flesh until jewels of fat and blood rose from it.  He felt sick looking at it.

             “Is there something wrong?”

             David’ voice was thunder, although he spoke in an even tone.  Katsuya looked up to see a disapproving stare.

             “No, not…really,” Katsuya stammered, suddenly feeling like a child then.  “I wasn’t feeling too well most of the day.  Long drive.  I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”

             The furrowed eyebrows remain knitted, even though David nodded.

             “What would you like instead?”

             Katsuya shook his head.

             “I think some sleep will do.  I’m sorry for being such a poor dinner companion.”

             David speared a piece of the steak and as it rose from the plate – droplets of red gathered and fell from the corner.  Katsuya hoped the grimace he felt inside didn’t show.

             “Walter will show you to your room,” David said, the sliver of bloody steak still forked and inches from his mouth.  “I will see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

             “Thank you,” Katsuya said and pushed himself away from the table.  It was with some control that he didn’t display his eagerness as he followed Walter from the dining room.  He walked slowly, careful not to out-pace the old butler who shuffled along unhurriedly.

            

            He let out a long breath when they had stepped out into the main hall and the heavy doors shut behind them.

             “Are you all right, Master Asano?”

             Katsuya nodded and managed a small smile.

             “I’ll be fine.  I was just not expecting…all this.”

             Walter gave him an assuring nod, genuine concern on his face.           

            “Should I summon the house physician?”

             “No, no…I really think I just need some sleep.  I was on the road for too long, not enough sleep and bad coffee…” He made a circle with his index figure.  “Everything.”

             Another nod from Walter and he said nothing else.  Katsuya continued follow him as they walked up the spiraled staircase.  A different one from the main entrance.  They were at another wing of the mansion and the side stairs didn’t seem as intimidating.  The only decorations were the fresco on the ceiling – cracked and faded with age, of angels staring down at them.

             The carpet that lined the staircase was a deep, bright red – the texture of it so soft that he can feel the gentleness of it through his shoes.  The banister was craved from a dark wood that might have been cherry.  There were four grand chandeliers that hung in the four corners – only the right most corner one was lit.  And it was bright enough to fill the entire first floor and the length of the stairs with light.

             They had turned two corners, ascended up three flights of stairs to the floor where Katsuya’s room was to be.  The stairs continued upwards.

             “Apologies for lack of elevator, Master Asano,” Walter said, snapping on the lights in the dimly lit hall with a press of a button on the wall.  “The Master felt the presence of them would ruin the aesthetic of the house.”

             “Yes,” was all Katsuya said.

             His room was the fourth room of the eight on third floor.  His suitcase had been brought up and the contents carefully sorted and hung up or put away.  It annoyed him to have strangers rummage through his belongings but he decided he was too tired to care then.  He’d have to have a talk with Kenji later.

            “Breakfast is at 730, Master Asano,” Walter said as he pulled the curtain close.  “I shall wake you?”

             “I can set my cell phone to ring me at 7,” Katsuya said.

            “If you like, Master Asano.”

             “Please just call me Katsuya,” he said.  “I understand you might have protocols to follow around here but when we are by ourselves, I’d rather not be called master…anything.”

             A smile creased Walter’s mouth.  He nodded once.

             “If you like,” Walter said.  “Anything else you would like for me to take care of before I leave you for the night? Of course, if you should need anything during the night, you may wake me.  My room is on the first floor, to the left of the main entrance – there is another hall.  All the servants are in that wing. My room is the first one on your right.  Our apologies for the lack of house phone.  We rarely have guests and so most rooms on this floor are not wired.”

             Katsuya sat down on the Queen Anne armchair next to the bed.

             “I’d like to know some things, Walter,” Katsuya said, his voice softened.  “What happened to my grandfather? Is he still alive? Is he here?”

             “I cannot answer your question,” Walter said.  “Master had asked no one but himself speak to you about the matters concerning this house and himself.”

             “I am not asking about his family.  I am asking about mine. “

             Walter held a gloved finger up to his lips and shook his head.

             “I believe you will be told everything soon, when you have ample opportunity to speak to Master.  For now, please rest.”

            Katsuya let out a deep sigh and rolled his shoulders forward.  The day didn’t make sense and the knot in his belly had tightened.  He resigned to the fatigue.  He was too drained to pursue any more questions.

             “All right,” Katsuya said.  “I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

             Walter took a few steps forward and bent down slightly to take Katsuya’s hand into his.  A key was pressed into it.

             “For the lock in this room,” Walter said, straightening.

             Katsuya closed his hand over and thanked the butler.  With another bow, Walter told him good night and left.

             It took Katsuya a few more minutes to will himself to move.  He held up the room key to the light to study it.

             It was a skeleton key made from pewter.  A detailed carving of a snake wrapped itself along the length of it with its opened mouth, with its fangs forming the end.  The teeth at the other end of the key were jagged and looked nothing like the keys he’d ever seen.

             _It’s almost as if I’ve stepped into a different world…_

Katsuya dismissed the thoughts that followed.  He gathered what was left of the strength in his legs and stood up.  He pushed the key into the lock, turning it until he heard it engage and left it there.

             It was a sudden awareness that came late.  He was already shivering long before he registered the cold.  He was shaking hard as he curled his body into a ball.  Even with the heavy blanket pulled around him, the chill still crept through.

 

            Then a heat came at one spot - on the side of his neck.  It was so startling that it hurt.  Then a warm sensation followed that went along the contour of his body.  It was as if someone had slipped into the bed with him and cradled him.  He was no longer shaking but the distinct pain by the side of his neck was still there.  Two heated spokes that sank so deep in that he swore he could feel it on his tongue.

             “You are safe.  Stay still.”

             The whispered words were said into his ear.  It was soothing.  It calmed him.  Soon, he didn’t even feel the pain anymore.  Just the comfortable numbness that washed over him as the warmth gathered him even tighter into its embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

           

            He woke before the alarm went off.

            He had slept through the night, but it wasn’t restful. There was a curious ache at the base of his neck. He lay in bed, staring at the narrow beam of sunlight that came through the seams of the heavy curtains. For a while, he didn’t know what to do.

            There was a distinctive sensation of being lost in a place where he didn’t belong. There was a nagging need for answers, but he didn’t know how to ask the questions. He lay there, still contemplating this, until he heard a gentle knock at his door. A glance at his cell phone on the nightstand beside him told him he was late for breakfast.

            Katsuya flung the heavy duvet off him and trotted to the door. He turned the key that was in the lock and opened it. He was surprised to see Shinohara in the doorway.

            “Good morning,” Shinohara said cheerfully. He wore a dark blue shirt that was tucked into a pair of dark slacks. His hair was a little damp –- almost dark brown with a hint of red. “Walter is overseeing the kitchen. He asked me to make sure you were awake and to bring you to the dining hall.”

            Katsuya only nodded.

            “I hope you slept well,” Shinohara continued, following Katsuya back into the room. He went to the window immediately and drew open the heavy curtains. The room was suddenly awash in light.

            “Could be better,” Katsuya said as he made his way toward the closet. He opened it and inspected his clothing that had been hung up the evening before. “Kenji…did you unpack my bags?”

            “Yes,” Shinohara said. “I hope you are not offended….”

            “Well,” Katsuya said as he pulled a white dress shirt off the hanger and flung it on the bed. “I’m not used to people I don’t know handling my personal things.”

            Before Shinohara could blurt out an apology, Katsuya put his hand up.

            “It’s fine. I’m not upset. But it may be a wasted effort for you. I don’t plan on being here long.”

            “Meaning?”

            “Exactly that,”Katsuya said. He picked up the slacks and shirt he had taken from the closet. “I really have no business here.”

            Shinohara appeared mystified, but he said nothing. He only nodded when Katsuya excused himself to use the adjacent bathroom to get ready.

\---

            “How long have you worked here, Kenji?” Katsuya asked. Those were the first words he'd said since they had left Katsuya’s room and they made their way down the stairs.

            “A little over a year,” Shinohara said. He didn’t look back. “Inherited the job from my father who spent a lifetime here. He’s too sick to continue to work and I suppose it’s only right that I take over.”

            “This is all you know? This estate?”

            Shinohara looked over his shoulder. There was a smile on his face. “Yes and no,”he said. “Master’s been generous. I studied in England for eight years before coming back here. Sometimes after leaving home to roam the great earth, you realize you just want to be in a small world.”

            Katsuya returned Shinohara’s smile. He liked him much in the way he liked Walter’s apparent candor. There was a warmth in him that was different from the mansion, from its master.

            “I do hope you will stay longer,” Shinohara continued. They’d reached the ground floor. “Master has been looking forward to your company for quite some time.”

            Katsuya wanted to ask Shinohara what he meant by this, but he decided it could wait. They were near the dining hall and he was already late. Shinohara opened the door for him and left. Walter was there, standing by the service cart. David was already drinking his coffee, his stare fixed straight ahead. Walter acknowledged him with a nod.

            “Sorry,” Katsuya began. He took his seat at the table. Walter set a delicate white cup trimmed with gold on a saucer and poured coffee into it from a carafe.

            “Did you sleep well?” David asked, putting down his cup and looking at him.

            “Yes,” Katsuya said. He looked down at his coffee. The unsettled sensation he had gone to bed with was still there. He was still staring down when Walter set a plate of steak and eggs in front of him. The heavy scent of the food made him queasy.

            “I only came because I understood my grandfather had sent for me,” Katsuya finally said as he looked up.

            David lay the knife and fork down on his plate and waited.

            “Am I to see him soon?”

            “Is it important for you to meet someone you don't know?”

            Katsuya regarded David for a few moments. Instead of feeling anxious, he felt irritated, annoyed with the lack of answers and feeling stupid for chasing after something for a reason he didn't know. “You're right,” Katsuya said. He shoved back his chair and stood. “There is no point in my meeting a stranger.”

            David’s eyes narrowed, his eyebrows furrowed. The corners of his mouth tightened. “You are still a guest in my house,” he said.

            His voice was low but Katsuya could hear the stifled anger in it.

            “Do not disrespect me. Sit down.”

            Katsuya stood his ground. The irritation had bloomed into a flare of anger. He nearly pushed Walter away as a reflex, when the old man placed a hand gently on one shoulder.

            “Please sit down, Master Asano.”

            As quickly as his temper had risen, it dissipated. Katsuya allowed Walter’s firm hand to press him back down. David picked up his knife and fork and continued to eat his breakfast.

            The rest of the meal went by quietly, without a word. Katsuya watched David eat and drink. Although he was beginning to feel hungry –- his last meal had been hours before he reached the estate and it had been half a greasy burger -- he decided he would touch nothing. He would owe nothing to this stranger.

            David wasn’t bothered by Katsuya’s untouched food. He appeared amused, as he wiped his mouth with the linen napkin. He discarded it on top of his plate. “You are determined to make me appear a bad host,” David said.

            “You are a bad host,” Katsuya said. “ You are detaining me here when I have absolutely no reason to stay.”

            David laced his fingers together on the table. That was the first time Katsuya noticed a silver band on his left ring finger.

            “You are polite, but you do have a temper,” David said. There was almost a smile on his face.

            Katsuya grimaced. He refused to be baited.

            “Come see me in my study in three hours,” David said as he stood. He brushed the wrinkles from his sleeves absently. “I’ll speak to you then.” He nodded curtly at Katsuya and left.

            Katsuya watched him go and then he was alone with Walter. The old man walked over to clear David’s plate and cup, stacking them back onto the service cart.

            “Would you like for me to warm your food again, Mas – Katsuya?”

            Katsuya shook his head. He reached for the glass of water that was beside the coffee and drank it.

            “You must be hungry,” Walter said. “If you intend to have a vigorous debate with Master later, you should eat something.”

            Katsuya looked at the food that had long gone cold. For no particular reason except that Walter had asked him to, he ate.

 

            Walter left Katsuya in the grand library and told him to leave it for David’s private wing when the clock chimed. The library was a waiting room for guests. No servants were allowed to go beyond that point unless they had been given specific permission to, Walter explained. He also took Katsuya’s cellphone from him. “There is no reception in this wing anyway,” he said, slipping it into his pocket. “I’ll see that the phone is returned to your room.”

            Katsuya only nodded. After telling him to have a good day, Walter left. Katsuya realized he had forgotten to ask Walter if he should wait for David to fetch him or if he should venture into the private wing and look for him. He felt listless and dumb, as he watched the swinging pendulum of the brass clock on the wall. The clock hands turned a quarter way before he convinced himself he would need to seek out the master of the house himself.

            He opened the French doors with the frosted glass panels. He was looking down a dimly lit hall. It ran long and ended somewhere in darkness. It was quiet. His heart skipped a beat as he took a step from the rich carpeting of the library onto the stone flooring.

            He left the French doors open behind him as he walked forward. He wished he had cookie crumbs to leave on the unknown trail. The light thrown from the open doors cast a shadow that shrouded every step he took as he headed into the dark.

            Katsuya stopped after he no longer saw his own shadow. He looked over his shoulder and saw that he had come into the darker end of the hall. He hesitated then, bargaining with himself, trying to decide if anything was worth the uneasiness that was roiling within him. He had nearly turned on his heel and started back toward the open French doors when a sound caught his attention. He listened. The sound was weak, a cat-like mew. He followed it, trying to understand what it was he heard. It became louder, resolving into a woman’s voice. He couldn’t distinguish the words, but he continued on. A servant who stayed on this wing, he guessed.

            A sudden sharp sound, almost like a scream, pulled Katsuya into action. He sprinted toward the shrill echo as it came again and again -- a woman in distress, unable to form the necessary words. He turned the corner, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark and felt his way through the hall purely by sound. He came to a door left ajar where the scream came from. He pushed the door farther open and his eyes widened at what he saw.

            David’s naked frame covered the shape of a delicate body beneath him, even as both moved together. David was driving into his partner hard, the ropes of muscle on his broad back straining with each stroke. The woman’s legs were hooked over David’s hips and that was all Katsuya could see of her. Another high pitched scream came then, assuring Katsuya that the woman wasn’t in trouble. A flare of heat burned Katsuya’s face when he realized what he had walked into.

            He ran. He turned and ran as fast as he could. He knew his loud footsteps were probably noticed as they echoed in the hallway. He took a couple of wrong turns, but managed to find the correct hall. Seeing the French doors' soft light spilling out pulled him toward them like some heavenly beacon.

            He didn’t stop running until he was in his room. He was still in an odd frame of mind as he gathered his suitcase from the closet and began to pile his clothing and belongings into it without finesse. He didn’t want to be here anymore.

            As he was struggling to zip up the overstuffed suitcase, a voice behind him called his name, startling him. He spun around, wide eyed, his breathing still labored. Shinohara was staring at him, mystified.

            “Are you all right?” he asked.

            “I just want to leave,” Katsuya blurted out. “My car...where are my keys?”

            Shinohara frowned. “You can’t just leave without Master’s permission,” he said. “Perhaps after lunch you can –- “

            Katsuya shook his head. “I want to leave NOW,” he said, his voice rising. “I don’t need anyone’s permission! Give me my car keys!”

            “I am not sure what happened to upset you,” Shinohara said, his voice level, almost cold. “But once you are on this property, you are to abide by the master's rules. He is the only person who can give you permission to leave.”

            Katsuya cursed. He pulled his suitcase off the bed and walked briskly out of the room. Shinohara only stared after him, saying and doing nothing, as Katsuya went down the stairs.

 

            Katsuya told himself he’d walk out of the damn place. He couldn’t remember any houses he had passed that were near the estate, but there should be cars on the road he could flag down. He’d have to come back with the police to fetch his car -- a price to be paid for his rash decision to come here and seek out a man he had been warned not to see.

            He didn’t know how he managed to find his way to the front entrance, but he did. The familiar vast empty space now felt threatening with two unfamiliar persons standing by the door. They were tall and well built, their thick bodies straining against the dark suits they wore.

            “Please return to your room,” the one with short cropped hair said.

            Katsuya hesitated, but his eyes were still focused on the doors only a few feet away behind the men. He squared his shoulders and decided he would not be intimidated, although he was.

            “Get out of my way,” he said, stepping forward, intending to try to shove the two men aside.

            “We really don’t want to hurt you,” the other said. He had a square face that was made more squat by an unfixed broken nose.

            “Who the hell are you to keep me here?” Katsuya demanded. He dropped his suitcase, letting it fall loudly at his feet.

            The men laughed. “It’s regrettable that we are not allowed to play with you,” the one with the broken nose said. “You would have been an interesting toy.”

            The words made no sense, but they infuriated Katsuya even more. He was shouting and cursing as the men seized him by the arms, one on each side, and dragged him along easily. Katsuya dug in his heels, refusing to go with them, but it was of little use. He felt like an unruly child being pulled along by his parents.

            They didn’t take him back to his room. He was taken to a different part of the house, somewhere he had not been. His courage slowly drained from him as they pulled him along. He was becoming afraid. So much so that when they stopped at a plain wooden door, panic consumed him. He writhed in their grip as one reached into his pocket for a key.

            “Save your strength,” one said to him. His voice was soft, almost as if he were pitying Katsuya then. The door opened with a whine and an instant cold and heavy metallic scent rushed out.

            “Please.... I didn’t do anything.... Just let me go...,” Katsuya pleaded, saying anything that came to mind. “I came here by mistake...please.”

            A light clicked on. A bare bulb hung from a single wire in the ceiling. The room was bare except for a metal frame bed without a mattress. There were large eyebolts driven into the walls at eye level and at least two on the floor. One had a length of chain tethered to a lower part of the wall, next to the bed frame. Katsuya’s struggle renewed as he was dragged forward. He could see an open metal collar on the end of the short length of chain.

            “Why are you doing this...?”

            The collar snapped closed around his neck and the men stepped back. They didn’t answer him and left without so much as another glance back at him. The door shut and Katsuya could hear the key turning in the lock.

            Truly alone, he tested the strength of the chain that looped through the eyebolt. There were gouges in the eyelet, signs of struggle from whomever was imprisoned there last. The heavy metallic scent was rust. He could smell it from the chain and the collar. Nothing gave. Not the chain. Not the collar.

            He sat, looking around the dimly lit room that reminded him of a very compact dungeon and pulled his knees up to his chest. The cold stone floor and lack of windows chilled the room. He started to shiver.

            _Oh God please help me...._

            That was his only thought, as he struggled not to let the surmounting terror inside him overtake him.


	3. Chapter 3

            He was gently shaken awake, and the first sensation he felt was immense cold. He had curled into a ball, wedged against the corner of the wall. Warm hands in cotton gloves brushed against his cheek, patting it.

            “Master Asano,” a voice in a whisper said, “Let’s get you out of here.”

            The collar was slipped from his neck. He could hear the metal clatter on the ground – its tinny echo finally bringing him to full consciousness. He blinked, not understanding for a few moments why he was looking at Walter.

            “Can you stand?” Walter asked, his hand extended.

            Katsuya only nodded as he struggled to find his footing, Walter helping him up. The side he had lain on, pressed against the icy wall was numb, his right arm slowly gaining back some sensation. When he finally stood, he could only lean against the wall. He couldn’t make his right leg work, as he felt a prickling sensation crawling from his toes up to his thighs. It hurt.

            “It’s past midnight,” Walter said. “We’ll go back to your bedroom. I’ve prepared and left some food and drink for you there. Eat and get some proper sleep. You’ll see Master in the morning....“

            The mention of David sent an instant burst of anger through him.

            “Why am I being kept prisoner here? “ Katsuya’s voice was loud in the small, empty room.

            A slight commotion, reacting to his sudden outburst, made him look up at the previously unnoticed figure standing guard in the doorway. He was one of the men who had brought him here -- the one with the broken nose. The man took a step into the room, but Walter held up a hand to stop him.

            “It’s all right, Samuel,” Walter said. Samuel stopped in his tracks, crossed his arms and waited.

            “You must be calm, Master Asano,” Walter said. “Nothing is under your control now; this is the reality. If you want to find out the truth, then first you have to restrain yourself. You were punished very mildly for your first trespass. The next time….”

            Walter paused and decided to say nothing more.

            “I understand,” Katsuya finally said, for no reason than his need to leave the dank, cold place.

            He stayed silent as he followed Walter out of the room, Samuel following two steps behind. At some point, Samuel left them, and Walter escorted him up to his room.

            “I will have someone fetch you in the morning,” Walter said, as he opened the door with the same skeleton key Katsuya had been given the night before. “Eat and sleep. You will have a long day tomorrow.”

            With those words, Walter gestured Katsuya into the room, but this time he locked the door from the outside. The simple sound of it – the lock turning, imprisoning him for another night in the mansion -- made Katsuya recoil. He remained standing at the door long after he heard Walter’s footsteps fade down the stairs.

            Although he was hungry, he couldn't eat. He didn’t explore the food that had been left under a silver dome on the table. After a hot shower that washed away all the misery and the cold from that small, dungeon-like room, he climbed into bed and slept.

 

            The cold came again. This time, Katsuya had a distinct memory of it. Fingers, like cold tendrils, slipped through his hair, combing through the strands with a curious gentleness. He remembered his father then, how he used to stroke his hair when he was a boy. One of his hands would hold open a book as he read to him, while the other caressed his hair, lulling him to sleep.

            He felt a missed, gentle nostalgia, the pain of it resonating deep inside his core; a kind of hurt that was so vivid it was tangible. He woke in tears. Although he felt ridiculous being consumed by an immense sadness that he couldn't remember feeling when he'd looked at his father lying in his casket many years ago, he now allowed himself to be swallowed whole by the darkness that had always been inside him.

 

            Katsuya didn’t answer Shinohara's "Good morning", when he came for him the next morning. He didn’t even protest when an outfit that wasn’t his was laid on the bed.

            “His idea?” Katsuya asked, as he unbuttoned his own linen shirt and tossed it onto the bed. “Now I have to conform to his dress code, too?” He slipped on the black shirt – the silk was soft and cool against his skin. His eyes fixed on Shinohara's as he buttoned it.

            “I don’t know what to tell you,” Shinohara said.

            “A big damn house of secrets,” Katsuya said. He undid his pants, taking them off in quick, angry motions, throwing them to the floor and kicking them to the side as he reached for the pants presented to him. “I’ll stay, " he said, pulling them on, “I’ll stay here and rip everything apart until I know the truth. Even if it wrecks this place.”

            Shinohara only gave him a nod and gestured toward the door. Nothing more was said as Katsuya followed him out of the bedroom, down the stairs and finally into the dining room. As expected, David was already there. He was drinking coffee from a cup. Shinohara set a similar cup and saucer down for Katsuya, filled it with coffee and left.

            For a while, neither spoke.

            “Are you waiting for me to apologize to you for walking into your tryst with your… _wife_?”

            David finally looked over at him and smiled. “I do not have a wife.”

            “Then what is that?” Katsuya asked, looking at the silver ring on David's ring finger.

            David didn’t answer. His smile remained as he finished his coffee and set his cup down.

            “Your grandfather was a successful businessman,” he said. “The kind of successful that might be described as ‘miraculous’. The kind of success that perhaps only could be gotten through divinity.”

            “I suppose,” Katsuya said. He reached for his coffee and drank it. The bitter, hot liquid made a warm path down his throat to his belly. It was good. “Not much of his fortune made it to my father’s generation or to myself. My father rejected him and his money completely.”

            “Your grandfather bought his success many years ago,” David said. There was a pause. “From me.”

            Katsuya hid an urge to laugh, and raised his cup for another sip. He let the absurd words digest for the few seconds.

            “So you are some kind of immortal being, to have known my grandfather, two generations back,” Katsuya said, barely restraining a grin.

            “I’m not immortal,” David said, and returned Katsuya’s amused smile.

            Then for a while, there was only silence. David pushed back his chair and rose – the screech of the chair legs against the stone floor a piercing echo. Katsuya watched as David picked up the carafe and came over to refill his cup.

            “How did he buy his success?” Katsuya finally asked. “Father said he didn’t have any money. In fact, Grandfather inherited debt from his father.”

            There was a pause, then the carafe was set down beside Katsuya’s cup.

            “He promised me a companion,” David said.

            Katsuya flinched as if he'd been burnt when the back of David’s hand slid along his cheek. The broad hand was warm, familiar, but Katsuya remained frozen in his seat, uncertain how to react.

            “He had a son, then,” David continued, turning his hand so he could stroke Katsuya’s face with his palm. “He said he wanted a good life for him and didn't want to saddle him with his debt and his miserable life. Your father. He was three then.”

            David cupped Katsuya's face and looked down at him. The malice and arrogance that had been in David’s eyes were gone. In them now was a kind of affection that Katsuya hadn't thought someone like David could possibly be capable of.

            “So I was promised your father's first born,” David continued. His voice softened and he leaned down so close that Katsuya could only see the blood in his eyes. “If the child were female, she would be my bride. If the child were male.…”

            There was a break in the sentence and David filled it with a smile. He gave Katsuya a small kiss. A kiss that broke the spell. Katsuya tore himself away and pushed David back. He stood too quickly, knocking over his chair – the clatter loud.

            “How dare you.… “ Katsuya scrubbed at his mouth with the heel of his hand.

            “You still believe all of this is an elaborate lie?” David asked. "You’ve never questioned why your father was estranged from your grandfather? Why he fled with you when you were a child?”

            Katsuya's fingers curled into fists. The despair he felt was so tangible, so encompassing, that he knew David was speaking the truth. Embracing it was another matter, however. His immediate decision not to accept it gave him the strength to speak and hold onto his anger.

            “It was an arrangement you made with someone else,” Katsuya said, forcing his voice to stay level. “It has nothing to do with me.”

            David’s smile grew and he laughed. “So easy, isn’t it? Disregard it with just a few words.” He took a step forward, closing the space between them.

            Katsuya had to remind himself to hold his ground and not take a step back.

            “It has everything to do with you. If your grandfather hadn’t struck this bargain with me, then you would not have existed. Your life was traded for your father’s.”

            Before he could reply, David seized him by the wrist. His grip was iron-like. Strong. Katsuya was dragged along as they left the room. His protests were ignored by the servants in the hallway, ignored, as if he were just a voiceless phantom. As he was pulled toward the wing of the manor where David resided, he caught a fleeting look from Shinohara. The look held pity and concern, then they rounded the corner and into the emptied side of the house.

            “Why am I here?!” Katsuya yelled. “You want a bride! I can’t give you a child!”

            David didn’t answer. They entered a darkened hall that Katsuya recognized -- the hall that led to David’s bedroom.

            Katsuya renewed his struggles, panicked. “I can’t give you anything!” Katsuya said, his voice echoing back at him.

            David stopped in his tracks, pressing Katsuya against the wall. Although they were still in the dark, Katsuya could almost see the furious expression on his face.

            “It’s not for you to decide what you can give me,” David said, his voice lowering to a feral-like growl. He wrapped one hand around Katsuya’s throat, fingers clenching. “It is up to me to decide what I want to take. If I decide I don’t want you, I will discard you. You have no ownership in your life anymore, understand?”

            His fingers closed in harder, to emphasize his meaning. “There is absolutely nothing you can offer me that I don't already own,” he said, leaning in and shoving one knee between Katsuya’s thighs. “You don’t even have the right to die.”

            The harsh words revealed the terrible secret that somehow he had always known existed, and the unearthing of it now was suffocating. He was shaking, arms limp at his sides, as David’s knee moved up high enough for him to almost be riding on it as he stood on his tip-toes.

            The grip loosened around his neck, a stark contrast to David’s warm breath brushing over his throat – gentle and featherlike. His tongue followed – soft and wet as it made a trail up to Katsuya's chin, then swept across his lower lip. The kiss that followed was hard, deep. It took his breath away.

            He was still pulling in deep breaths after David broke off the kiss. David then began licking along the column of his throat, down to the small junction between his collarbones.

            He let out a moan, in spite of himself. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was and why he was there, caught in the pure intoxication of being wanted in a way he had never been before. A want that was pure.

            He took in a breath and held it, as a hot pain pierced through the side of his neck – driving through him like a heated spoke. The pain was both terrible and enthralling. He felt his body grow taut at the sensation and as the pain subsided – pleasure took its place. Katsuya had to brace himself, his arms coming up to cling onto David. His fingers gripped the hard, muscled back – tighter and tighter.

            And then his mind went dark as the hallway itself.


	4. Chapter 4

            He awoke, but somehow could not make himself move. It was as if his mind had awakened and he'd opened his eyes before the rest of his body could catch up. He stared up at gathered translucent white fabric as it cascaded from the center of the ceiling and fanned out to the frame of his bed. Sometimes a breeze whispered and made it flutter.

            It was something to watch, as Katsuya slowly gained control over his fingers, then his legs, until he was able to finally roll his head to one side to study the room he was in.

            It was late at night. He could see specks of stars through a small window set up high. Two half burned candles. their dripping wax collecting in a ceramic dish, were all the light in the room. Looking back up at the ceiling, Katsuya realized that he could see the canopy of the bed simply because the ceiling was made of glass. A glow came from a half moon that was barely in his view. He could see more stars now.

            He made himself sit up, although every inch of him protested as he did so. The sheets and blankets covering him were heavy and layered him in warmth. They slipped from him as he sat up, and he felt the freezing temperature in the room instantly. It was intense, as if he were outside, although he felt like he was inside a glass box.

            It wasn't until he slipped one leg out from under the covers that he realized he was naked. The hairs on his bare leg stood up, the chill penetrating through him so quickly that he nearly retreated back into bed. Instead, he waited until the shivers passed and he could talk himself into braving the cold. He finally stood up, pulling a duvet off the bed and wrapping it around his shoulders. It didn’t help very much, but at least he had stopped shivering.           

            The floor was bare stone. The soles of his feet froze as he walked, dragging the duvet behind him. He had nearly made it to the candles before the door to the room opened – the sound of it startling in the silence. A gentle wash of light from the hallway highlighted a figure. The silhouette remained in the doorway for a moment, until a light clicked on.

            Katsuya experienced a small moment of panic when he was blinded by the harsh light. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to back away from the new presence in the room – a useless instinct.

            “Please return to bed, Master Asano,” the voice said, coming closer.

            Katsuya knew the voice before he could put a name to it. He opened his eyes slowly, although his vision was still blurred, and stood where he was, unmoving, as the person came up to him. He could hear the footsteps closing the distance between them.

            “Kenji...,” Katsuya said, although he still couldn’t focus.

            “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Shinohara asked, as he placed his hands on Katsuya’s shoulders and walked him back to the bed. Katsuya allowed it.

            “No,” Katsuya said. “I just want to know....”

            “There isn’t very much I can tell you,” Shinohara said, slipping the duvet off Katsuya’s shoulders and placing it on the bed again. “Please get back into bed before you get sick.”

            Katsuya did so reluctantly, only because he was so cold. He was unaware that his teeth had been chattering until he tried to speak. His taut body relaxed as soon as he was enveloped in the warmth of the duvet and blankets.

            “You can’t tell me or you won’t?”

            Shinohara let out a sigh. There was a conflicted look on his face that Katsuya could see. A small spark of hope struck him that he might be able to make Kenji his ally, through empathy perhaps. He pressed harder.

            “I know I'm a prisoner here. I just want to know why. I'm not looking to run away. I just want to know anything at all.”

            A small pitying smile appeared on Shinohara's face, “I think it's best that you don’t know anything. The mind plays terrible tricks on you when you're alone...and you will be alone often.”

            “Like how a cow might die in peace if it didn’t know it was being led to slaughter?”

            “Would it be better if the cow understood the inevitable in his last days?”

            The statement unnerved Katsuya. It wasn’t the reply he had expected. “Will I...be murdered here?” he asked in a whisper. The same words David had said to him before he awoke. The promise that he wouldn't be allowed to die, but would be given to him. It made Katsuya sick, connecting what David had said and now what Kenji was saying.

            “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Shinohara said, patting Katsuya on one cheek. “You're freezing. Would you like for me to draw you a hot bath?”

            Katsuya seized the hand that was cupped against his cheek and held it. “I would like for you to give me answers.”

            Shinohara’s hand was warm, clutched in his hands. Katsuya squeezed it harder, emphasizing his need. Shinohara’s eyes softened.

            “What did he mean when he said I was being used to pay my grandfather’s debt?” Katsuya asked.

            There was a moment of silence. Shinohara looked at his hand that was being held tightly by Katsuya.

            “The Master makes those exchanges all his life, to hundreds...perhaps thousands, like your grandfather,” Shinohara said. “People he needs are easily bought. Your grandfather was one of them.”

            There was another pause until Katsuya prompted him. “Why?”

            "This House...this lineage...is cursed. Master hasn’t been able to father an heir in decades. The bride he needs may exist...perhaps once a decade, among millions born in that time.”

            “Centuries...,” Katsuya whispered. He wanted to challenge that word, but he realized that it was the truth. It was the only truth that made sense.

            “It is a constant hunt for game for him. He can sense the few, specific bloodlines compatible with his needs. He can walk through a crowded London or Paris or Tokyo street and smell the right blood, and when he senses it, he will make an offer to the future father of that infant,” Shinohara said with a sad smile. “Expectedly, people are willing to sell something they do not yet have, in exchange for something of value they can have immediately."

            “He hunts for brides,” Katsuya said. “What does he do with the males that are born? They are no good to him. Like me.”

            Shinohara pulled his hand back.

            “Males are probably most important to him,” Shinohara said. “Master David is not immortal, but he has the capacity to live for centuries, just as his father before him. The continuation of his life is just as important to that legacy as it is to make an heir to extend it.”

            Shinohara reached up and touched Katsuya on the side of his neck. Katsuya hadn’t known that the spot ached, until this gentlest pressure made him flinch.

            “The males born into the blood,” Shinohara said, “are his food.”


	5. Chapter 5

            Shinohara was gone for the night. A covered tray of food and a pitcher of water had been left at his bedside. Katsuya had asked no more questions, although he had too many, and Shinohara had given him no more explanations.

            He lay in bed and stared upward into the night sky as it slowly gave way to the gentlest brush of early dawn light, until the specks of stars were swallowed into the blue and yellow hue. This was followed by the slightest wisp of crimson from the sun.

            He stared at the changing sky until the door opened again. This time, the person who came for him didn’t need to click on the light to see.

            “I’ve brought your attire for your breakfast with Master David.”

            It was a woman’s voice, so soft that he almost couldn't understand her. He sat up. A woman stood in front of him, perhaps in her late-thirties, wearing a white cotton gown that fitted her thin frame. She had a layer of clothing draped over one arm and a pair of shoes in one hand. Her hair was cropped short, just below her ears. She wore no make-up or jewelry; perhaps a servant, but then she wasn’t dressed like the maids in the other wing.

            “I don’t want to go,” he said. He understood there wasn’t a choice. He said it to voice his displeasure, and as the only protest he had. He also wanted to test his new caretaker, to test her and see what she would say and do.

            “Then you will be taken to the dining room naked,” the woman said unflinchingly, as she folded the clothing over a chair that was tucked into a small writing table. “You haven't been provided the clothing for modesty, it is more for the chill. You’ll regret your silly objection soon enough.”

            She smoothed the fabric under her hand a few times, then satisfied, she walked over to a small sink in the far corner of the room and ran the water. The hissing sound that filled the small room somehow made him feel better, that some normalcy still existed in all the chaos that had come too quickly.

            “Who are you?” he asked, as he slid out from under the layers of bedding and planted his feet on the floor. He could see what it was made of now – beautiful squares of white marble that were like sheets of ice against the soles of his feet.  The water was turned off. The woman lifted a filled ceramic basin and left it on a towel to the side.

            “Madeline,” the woman said as she turned. “You can call me Madeline.”

            “Madeline...,” he said. It made him feel better, if only marginally, to know another name in a place where he felt he could have easily been forgotten -- locked and neglected in a small glass box, like a captured insect a child might keep in his room.

            “Twenty minutes,” Madeline said. “Please wash up and get dressed. If you haven’t understood this by now – Master does not wait for anyone. You wait for him.”

            Then she was gone. The light in the room had brightened a few degrees in the short time Madeline had been there, he could see better now. It was bright enough to see the shape of some shrouded furniture tucked into the corners of the room, in addition to the writing desk and matching chair. This is where the burning candles of the night before had been located, although they had long since burned down, their light extinguished. The one window set high in the wall had its pane opened outward enough to allow fresh air in. The sink was in one corner with a stool next to it – where Madeline had placed the basin on a folded towel. A mirror, no bigger than his hand, was recessed into the wall above the sink. No toilet. Just a small chamber pot under the sink that made him uncomfortable.

            Although it wasn’t as cold as the night before, the chill air still gave him goosebumps. He made his way to the sink and dipped his hands into the basin of hot water Madeline had filled for him. He splashed it on his face, warming up quickly. He looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t slept well and he probably hadn’t eaten in two days. His fatigue showed.

            “It's not like what the Master eats has to be presentable, just edible,” he said wryly to his image in the mirror.

 

            Nothing they had given him to wear belonged to him, although the new clothing fitted him perfectly. Neither Walter nor Shinohara nor Madeline came for him. Just as he was slipping his shoes on, another woman, who was probably older than Madeline, arrived and gestured wordlessly for him to follow. He did.

            The hallway was dim. Although there was electricity wired in that part of the manor, most of the domed overhead lighting wasn't turned on. They passed by doors that were identical and unnumbered. Briefly he wondered if there were people like him in those rooms -- rooms with glass ceilings and a single slit in one window to allow air in. And how did his keepers know which one of these unnamed and unnumbered rooms was his or others'...?

            His meandering thoughts came to a halt when they turned the corner and entered a brightly lit hall. He could smell food and coffee. They weren’t back in the same wing where he had been served meals with David, but this hall looked identical, with the same colors and even the same rugs on the floor.

            “Let yourself in,” the woman said, when they came to a double door. She left without seeing that he followed her instructions.

            He looked to his left and right – all he could see were darkened hallways. Pitch black. Perhaps there was no one there, and perhaps one direction would lead him outside. Somehow, he couldn’t will himself to explore. He opened one of the two doors and went inside the dining hall instead.

            David was already at the table. Behind him, a busy group of butlers and maids were setting the table for eleven, although only he had arrived as yet.

            “Do you like your room?” David asked, and nodded for him to sit next to him, on his right.

            “Do I have a choice?” he asked, sitting down.

            “I am glad that you still have your willful spirit,” David said. “It will give me great pleasure to break it.”

            “I look forward to it,” Katsuya said, glancing down the expanse of the long table at the place settings. “Family reunion?”

            David only smiled. “Something like that.”

            “I don’t suppose one of them would be my grandfather?”

            David turned the ring on his finger. It was something he did unaware, and it drew Katsuya’s attention. The silver ring was simple. It wasn’t adorned with anything except for a few grooves that looked more like they were made by a hammer when the ring was cast, than a design carved into it intentionally.

            “Your grandfather is long dead. He died a rich but lonely man, if you must know. Isolated from the world. It was almost as if he regretted his decision to make a bargain with me.” David said finally. “He died three years before your father did."

            “The letter he wrote to me....”

            “He wrote the letter to you decades before you were born -- a letter to you, but a promissory note to me.”

            “What would have happened if I had died in the years before I came here?” Katsuya asked. He was genuinely curious. He was impressed by the decades of careful planning that had brought about the present end. “Wouldn’t you have given a fortune to a man for nothing?”

            “Do you spend time wondering what it would have been like if you had been born a woman? Or if you'd had a mother raise you instead of a father?” David asked. There was a smile on his face. “It’s a ridiculous waste of time to speculate about what could have been.”

            Katsuya nodded. He wanted to ask about what he had learned from Shinohara, but then held back. Instead, he sat in silence and watched the way the servants moved without any wasted movements. He wondered if they were all David’s property, like he was, and if the women from the morning were simply hired help or if they were the brides that hadn't been able to give him an heir.

            He was distracted when both doors to the hall opened, and a group of men and women in coifed hair and elaborate dresses and suits came in. The four men sat to his right, sliding into their seats with familiarity; the women, five of them, seated themselves to David’s left, across from the men. They wore smiles on their faces as they acknowledged Katsuya with the faintest nods, but their smiles were empty -- painted on, like dolls on shelves in a toy store.

            Each in turn told David good morning; some had accents, but all of them sounded the same – the practiced way they said the few words. Katsuya found himself more troubled by the idea that he might be one of them soon, than the fact that he existed in that odd vacuum of space.

            David didn’t make any introductions and Katsuya didn’t ask. He stayed quiet as he sipped his coffee and drank his water, eating very little on his plate as he watched his breakfast companions speak to each other in almost hushed tones. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, their soft murmurs were drowned in the echo of the vast hall. He thought he heard the man on his right tell a woman across from him that he hadn't slept well the previous night. The moon had been too bright, like the sun, he said, with an exaggerated look of distress.

            Then the meal was over. Each of them rose and bid David good day and left, walking one behind the other in a neat row. It was after the servers had cleared away the plates, glasses and silverware, had loaded it all onto a wheeled cart and left, that David looked at him again.

            David hadn’t said a word or looked his way throughout the breakfast. Katsuya had watched him observe the men and women eat and speak to each other for most of the meal, without really looking at any of them.

            “This was like when a child plays in their room,” Katsuya said, “the way they arrange dolls and toy animals around a table and pretend to serve them tea and cakes, just to have some semblance of companionship.”

            David smiled at the suggestion. “You think I am lonely?”

            “Your ring,” Katsuya asked instead, “who does it belong to?”

            A frown darkened David’s face at the question. Katsuya understood he had trespassed on a delicate, guarded area. It was satisfying, knowing he could find a vulnerable center in his captor, and in spite of his helpless situation, could drive a knife through it.

            “Although I usually leave the task of explaining house rules to others,” David said, dismissing the question, “I don’t think they would be able to get through to you as well as I can.”

            He pushed his chair back and stood. He walked toward a door behind him, where the servants had come and gone during the meal service, and pressed the button of an intercom on the door. “Bring him here,” David said simply. There was no voice that acknowledged him. He returned to his seat, but didn’t pull himself up to the table.

            “Do you still believe you have free will?” David asked him.

            “I suppose it comes down to whether I believe I could be sold before I even existed.”

            “That doesn't answer my question,” David said. “We’ll come back to it later.”

            He laced one leg over the other. The smile returned to his face. “You have no questions for me?” he asked. “You must -- hundreds of them: Who am I? What are you to me? Why are you here? You couldn’t stop asking them in the first few days you were here.”

            A small swirl of anxiety started to collect in Katsuya's belly, although he didn’t yet understand why. He didn’t know how to answer.

            “You have no curiosity about the meaning of your grandfather’s bargain with me?”

            “He is dead.”

            “Which should have made you think of even more questions,” David said.

            Katsuya took in a breath and held it. He didn’t know why he was becoming scared, except that he was. He couldn't figure it out until one of the double doors opened and Shinohara came in between two men in dark suits. They weren’t the same men who had accosted him when he had tried to leave, but they were from the same security staff, burly and indifferent. There was a grimace on Shinohara’s face, as if he understood everything – even if Katsuya hadn't caught up yet.

            “It would appear that Shinohara has broken the most important house rule,” David said, looking at Shinohara and then back at Katsuya. “My instructions are absolute.”

            “What...are you saying...?” Katsuya breathed.

            “Your silence betrayed you,” David said, rising from his seat. He walked around the table and stood behind Katsuya’s chair. “If you have no questions to ask, perhaps it is because you already know the answers?”

            A strong hand gripped his arm and pulled Katsuya up and out of his seat. David sat down in it instead, and gathered Katsuya to him to sit in the gap of space between his legs.

            “You are a very good boy not to get Kenji into trouble,” David said into his ear, leaving a kiss on the side of his neck, “and so, I will not be the one to dispense the punishment.”

            Katsuya was shaking. The meaning of David’s words came to him, as Shinohara walked forward, unbuttoning his shirt as he did so. The expression on his face hadn’t changed, although Katsuya could see a hardened look in his eyes set in.

            “Please don’t...please don’t....” Katsuya said. The words became a yell, when Walter came in from the servant’s entrance with a coiled whip in his hand.

            “You should thank me for the mercy I’ve shown to dear Shinohara here,” David said, pressing a hand over Katsuya’s mouth and folding an arm over his body to stifle his struggles. “If I had been the one to do this, I would have broken his spine after a few strokes.”

            Shinohara shrugged off his shirt and left it draped over a chair at the end of the long table. He took in a breath and let it out slowly before he leaned in, gripping the back of the chair as Walter walked behind him and stopped a few steps away, loosening the coil. The thick rope-like tendril pooled on the floor.

            “I don’t need to hurt you to teach you a lesson,” David said, and gave Katsuya a kiss on his temple. “Always remember this.”

            Katsuya reacted, pulling at David’s embrace at the first sound – the terrible loud crack that echoed in the room. Shinohara bit down a scream and took the first stroke with a harder grip on the chair. The muscles in his arms tightened into ropes.

           “I shouldn’t need to remind you not to close your eyes,” David said. “The stroke will be repeated if you do.”

            With each thunderous sound that came, Katsuya flinched – his body bucking against David, again and again. Desperate tears rose and flowed down his cheeks and over David’s hand that still covered his mouth. With each blow, the sound seemed to be louder. Although Katsuya couldn’t see Shinohara’s back that was being torn by the thick leather whip, he could picture it in his mind -- the way Shinohara clenched his teeth and struggled to remain in position...his eyes that were so full of pain. The whipping stopped after ten strokes. The silence was then filled by Katsuya’s sobbing that came from the pit of his throat.

            “Do you understand now?” David asked into his ear, slowly loosening his hand over Katsuya’s mouth. “I am everything here.”

            Katsuya was able to nod numbly. As soon as he could speak, he did. “I pressed him,” he said. “It’s not his fault....”

            “He made a choice to answer your questions,” David said. “He chose to disobey me.”

            “Please....”

            In a low voice, David asked him again. “Do you still believe you have free will?”

            This time, Katsuya said “No”.


	6. Chapter 6

            It had been fourteen days since that shocking night at the banquet hall. Resignation, a type of despair, had settled in him like an illness that was becoming part of him. The resentment that had bloomed in his chest since his arrival at the estate gradually faded into nothing. Perhaps he was simply accepting his condition.

            He spoke little and took instructions quietly, passing the time wearing a veneer of indifference. His days were simple, dull; he spent them staring at the sky above him through the domed glass ceiling. Sometimes he read the few books left for him on the writing desk, only leaving his room for meals. For each dinner, he was asked to wear fancy clothing that in his former life he would neither have owned nor worn. The meals were the only time he saw David and his select companions, all dressed like himself.

            Although he longed for company, he couldn’t bring himself to engage in any kind of conversation with the companions. Somehow, he abhorred their presence. The pretentiousness of it all grated on his nerves. He decided he preferred his lone company, shuttered in his room, over being seated amongst the animated dolls who spoke almost non-stop during the meals, but said little.

            The master of the house was another matter. David almost never spoke. He watched. Sometimes he asked Katsuya how he had slept the night before. Sometimes he simply looked at him, then at the others, before his interest seemed to dissipate completely.

            Katsuya soon lost track of the days. It was meaningless to count how long he had been locked in a glass box when there was no end to it, so, he simply stopped counting. After dinner on one of the uncounted nights, David sent the others away, but told him to remain. He watched the companions leave – each saying goodnight with the gentlest hint of affection. The large banquet room felt enormous, their voices echoing when they spoke.

            “Are you still angry with me?” David asked, slight amusement in both the question and his voice.

            “No,” Katsuya answered simply.

            “You’ve been very obedient,” David continued. “I didn’t think you would be tamed so quickly.”

            Uncertain how he could answer David without accidentally bursting into an argument, Katsuya only shrugged.

            “Do you have any questions for me?”

            It was an opening he hadn’t expected; he felt a small skip in his belly when he heard it. He had many thoughts and questions – all of them having come to him in the days past as he lay in bed watching wisps of clouds pass across the sky. He said the first thing he thought of. "You keep myself and men like me to feed on, but so far, we -- I should say I -- am being kept in a box.”

            “You would rather be drained of your life instead –“

            “Instead of being raised like a kept pet,” Katsuya said, interrupting. "Right now, each night I go to sleep and wake not understanding my purpose.”

            “How human,” David said, a smile touching his lips. “You want to experience something…intensely, to feel your own existence.”

            “A fish swimming in a small bowl can live for years as long as it is fed, driven by its instinct to live. Perhaps you are like that – to simply exist and follow a routine is satisfying enough.”

            David’s smile remained. He unlaced his fingers that had been resting on top of the table and stood up.

            “Come with me,” he said, turning and walking toward the side exit. After a moment, Katsuya complied.

            He followed four steps behind David, watching his broad back in front of him. The narrow hallway outside the dining room was dimly lit, the stone floor uneven. Listening to the unmatched cadence of distant footsteps, he was aware of three men who followed them, although they couldn’t be seen. Security detail, perhaps, or simply assistants. They followed far enough behind not to be intrusive, but close enough to be heard and noticed.

  
            As the hall became darker and the air grew cooler, Katsuya quickened his footsteps to close the gap between himself and David. He noticed an earthy scent – different from that of the stone walls and floor, becoming more familiar the moment David opened heavy doors at the end of the corridor.

            Katsuya almost let out a cry of joy as soon as he stepped out into the garden. Although it was already past dusk, he could still see the muted colors of the flowers and trees, smell their heady fragrance and see the way they swayed gently in the night breeze. He had to work hard to keep his excitement contained as he walked beside David through the labyrinth he could only assume was behind the estate. They did not speak as they strolled. Nothing needed to be said.

            That night he went to bed with memories of that walk, the sweet scent of the outdoors clinging to him. It became routine, David taking him along on walks after dinner. It was the single event he woke up looking forward to every day and then happily went to bed every night thinking about.

            At some time he noticed that the people who had been following them were no longer following. He and David were truly alone, as they walked a single path made in trimmed grass through properly cared for flowers and plants. Sometimes he heard animals rustle in them, but he hadn’t seen any yet.

            It was on one of those days, as their walk began, that David extended his hand to him. Katsuya looked at it, uncertain what his response should be, although there was only one. His hand shook a little as he placed it in David’s, its warmth shocking in the brisk night. He heard himself take a breath. David folded his fingers over Katsuya’s, and laughed. It was the first time Katsuya had heard the gentle laugher that showed an entirely different side of the master, one that continued to confuse him.

            “Despite what you may think,” David said, “I don’t have cold blood running through my veins.”

            The remark made Katsuya smile. “I’m glad there is at least one common trait we share,” he said.

            David’s smile remained, as they made their usual way along the marked path. A crescent moon hung in the night sky, a scattering of stars a brilliant canopy over them; and there was something wonderful, almost poignant in the way David held his hand that night -- the genuine touch of a person like himself in a lonely place surrounded by strangers.

            “Is this my reward for being obedient?” Katsuya asked. He was curious. The master's mood had changed gradually over time, the difference going almost unnoticed. However, now as David held his hand, the contrast between this and the first days when he cursed him…even he was surprised by the altered state of their relationship.

            “If you would like for it to be,” David said.

            They were quiet again for a time.

            “I was six when my father died,” David said suddenly, staring straight ahead. In the still of the night his voice was strong, although he spoke softly. “I was too young to fully understand what death was and why he was gone, but old enough to have all the resentment of being left behind.”

            Another pause. When he spoke again, his voice had lowered to a timbre Katsuya had never heard before, almost a whisper.

            “Sometimes distant family came to visit. I didn’t know them except they told me we were related,” he said. “I was raised by men and women Father had left behind, the ones who understood the rules and who I was to be. The companions, like the ones you see in the dining room, were the only company I had, the ones gathered by Father that lived here, to use your words, like ‘kept pets’. They sat in their chairs, wearing smiles as they ate and drank…but I knew they were afraid of me even though I was just a boy. They couldn’t hide the fear in their eyes.”

            “So these companions became a tradition…?” Katsuya asked, although it wasn’t a question.

            “A king can sit on a throne by himself, but would he feel like a king unless there were a filled court to reassure him he that he was?” David asked. “It is a rule set by someone long ago and a rule that continues. It does not matter if anything else makes sense, when you are born with expectations of who you should be."

            Katsuya only nodded. He was thinking of the expensively dressed dinner companions, the way David looked at them indifferently, like they were part of the furniture. His thoughts vanished when he felt David’s hand give his a squeeze.

            “How did your father pass away?” Katsuya asked, the question tumbling out before he thought. “My understanding is that a lineage like yours can continue for as long as you have…food?”

            “Everything dies,” David said, pausing at a stone bench carved from a single boulder and sitting down. He pulled Katsuya down next to him, the shared side of their bodies gaining warmth. “It’s a matter of losing the will to live, even if the body continues to survive. My father no longer wished to exist.”

            “But why?”

            “Perhaps it’s easier to feel nothing, when all you feel is despair and loneliness.”

            Katsuya looked down at his hand still held in David’s – the way the long fingers laced though his own. There was pain in his heart then, as he came to understand fully the kind of desperation that was in the master, someone he had previously hated and feared.

            “You don’t need to pity me,” David said. “This is what I am, just as you will always be what you are.”

            A flurry of words came to Katsuya then -- the thought of an apology, perhaps more questions, something-- instead, he brought David’s hand up and kissed it.  The gesture seemed to mystify David. His look of confusion remained as Katsuya leaned in to give him a soft kiss on the mouth.

            “It’s only easier to feel nothing,” Katsuya said with a small smile, “when you choose to stop fighting.”

            David slid a finger along Katsuya’s cheek.

            “My father was younger than I am now when he chose to stop feeding. It took him over a year to die. I watched him waste away. I have vague memories of that time, but I can still remember his grayed skin, sunken eyes and cheeks. I often sat on a stool at his bedside and watched him from morning until night. Most of the time he would stare at the ceiling. Sometimes he looked at me. He said nothing to me until the morning he died.”

            Katsuya held David’s hand on his lap, clasped in both of his.

            “’Be good'," he said to me with a smile that took all of his remaining energy to make. Then he died, still staring at me, smiling. I watched him like that for a while, then slipped off the stool and left. The men and women who had raised me were lined up, waiting for me outside his room. They knew without a word or a look that their master had died.” David sighed. “I had the room locked and the floor sealed. It is Father’s tomb, the floor above mine.”

            “Did you come to learn why your father had chosen that end?”

            “He told me,” David said. “The day he decided he would be leaving me soon.”

            Katsuya waited and when the rest of the story didn’t come, he decided not to press him. Instead, he let go of David’s hand so he could wrap his arms around him. Slowly David’s arms wound around his waist, reciprocating the embrace.

            Katsuya thought he heard David say, “Thank you.”


	7. Chapter 7

                Katsuya hadn’t had much experience with intimacy, not that he minded.  It had always been an uncomfortable thing for him to broach while he was in school, then again later when he was working, though he wasn’t certain why.  He found it intimidating to express his innermost self to someone…even if that person was willing to do the same.  He'd gone on a few dates, usually arranged by well-meaning friends who worried he would grow old alone.  The women, sometimes men, they introduced him to were more than nice to him, but things never progressed further than a simple kiss on the mouth or hand-holding.  He made excuses and backed away as soon as any hint of the "next step" came, never to see or call them again. 

                Now he was gripped by the same fear, even though he understood what his role was in David’s presence and in his home.  He'd accepted the fact that he no longer owned himself, and was resigned to the fate with which his grandfather had cursed him; yet it didn’t make his nerves any less frayed.  The vision of David thrusting violently into a woman beneath him was still as clear in his mind as if he had seen it just a day ago, and now they were in the same room, with the same bed just a few steps away.  He started shaking, his body reacting to the reality that was to occur, his mind far from being prepared for it.

                “Are you scared?” David asked, amused. 

                “I have never…,” Katsuya began, his parched throat halting the rest of the sentence. 

                “I know,” David said, sitting on the edge of the bed.  “I would have been furious if you had.”

                “I'm not certain if I should be terrified by the fact that you’ve been watching me intensely, or because you wish to have unnatural relations with me.”

                A curious look came over David’s face.  “'Unnatural'?”

                “Obviously I can’t give you an heir,” Katsuya said, the sentence sounding ridiculous as he heard himself say it.  “Do you… _play_...with your food?”

                A laugh answered him.  Katsuya’s cheeks warmed, as he felt more awkward than ever, flustered and confused. 

                David held out one hand with a wolfish grin. “You’ll be fine,” he said when Katsuya stayed frozen where he stood.  “Come to me.”

                Katsuya inched forward, his feet dragging on the plush rug like a baby struggling with his first steps.  He stretched out his hand as the distance between them narrowed, until the very tips of his fingers touched David’s.

                “Good boy,” David said, curling his hand around Katsuya’s, pulling him forward until he stood between David’s knees. 

                The trembling that wracked Katsuya’s body then was more pronounced, his unsteady breathing loud and ragged in the room.  It horrified him to hear it, but the more aware of it he became, the less control he seemed to have.

                “You’ve been here five months, ” David said, undoing the hooks on Katsuya’s pants and lowering his zipper.

                “Five months to break me…,” Katsuya said, bracing his hands on David’s shoulders, swaying a little on his feet.  He realized it wasn’t so much fear he was fighting, but the desire to flee.  He wanted to turn and run down the dark corridors and out through the library, and the desire to do so was so strong that it hurt.

                “No,” David said, as he began unbuttoning Katsuya’s shirt from the bottom up. “I don’t think I can ever completely break you.”  

                When the linen shirt was unbuttoned half way, he paused and slid his hands underneath, the tips of his fingers exploring the soft plane of Katsuya's skin, his touch sliding along his ribs, down to his waist, then back up again to his chest.  Katsuya inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut.  When he let out his breath again, his tremors had subsided. 

                “Good boy,” David said again, and planted a kiss above Katsuya's belly button.

                Katsuya’s hands moved from David’s shoulders and down his back, raking a trail down his shoulder blades.  As he took in another deep breath, he recalled David's broad back, knotted with muscle and slick with sweat, as he'd seen him that day. 

                He followed in his mind the soft line of kisses and licks David was now making toward his left hip.  He distinctly felt his pants shift ever so slightly, so that his waistband slid down.  He pulled David closer, then felt an excruciating jab of pain at his waist, right above his hip.  He let out a yelp, but instead of pushing David away, his fingers dug into his shoulders even harder.  The pain was like a hot knife, spearing him through, and as the fire started to recede, it left behind a long trail of pleasure in its wake that stirred his arousal.  He glanced down, breaking out of the delicious lull just for a moment to look at David.        

                He saw a small wound made by David’s teeth at the side of his waist; it was bleeding in a slow trickle.  David’s tongue swept up the blood, and somehow, watching this made Katsuya even more aroused.  There was something grotesquely sensual about the idea of being eaten alive – one small bite at a time. 

                David pushed himself away, breaking the spell.  Katsuya started to protest, but it was cut off when David stood and gave him a hard kiss.  He could taste the sweet, metallic traces of his blood on David’s tongue as it swept over his.  A bite was left, not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a bruise on his lower lip, when David pulled back.

                There was a short moment of silence, a pause – as if they were circling each other cautiously.  Then expectedly, David made the first move.  He picked up Katsuya by his waist and threw him onto the mattress.  He bounced once, then was pinned down as David towered over him – his knees shoved against his hips.  Katsuya watched in utter fascination as David took off his shirt hastily, throwing it over the side of the bed, then loosened his pants just enough to slide his erection out through his lowered zipper.  Panic rose in Katsuya then as he came back to his senses.

                “You're suddenly scared again?” David asked with a small laugh.  He wasn’t as gentle when he unbuttoned the rest of Katsuya’s shirt then; a hard rip finished it.  “We're getting to the good part.”

                Every single protest he wanted to say sounded absurd in his mind.  Of course David would use him.  The notion that he was nothing but an object to be devoured, his bones thrown over one of David's shoulders, hit him hard.  That was his reality, and after so many months he'd learned there wasn’t any point in weaving an illusion that David might regard him as something different.  He was a thing to be used.

                Accepting it oddly eased his mounting anxiety.  The struggle went out of him and he lay there looking at David’s imposing silhouette, backlit by the only light in the room. 

                “I don’t know what to do,” Katsuya said, swallowing hard to wet his parched throat. 

                David stripped off Katsuya’s pants, throwing them to the side on top of his shirt.  He moved his knees from their position of pinning Katsuya’s hips, to wedging open the inside of his thighs.  The way he was splayed, Katsuya felt like a gutted fish.  He began shaking again.

                “You don’t need to do anything,” David told him and bent to give him a butterfly-like kiss.  “It will hurt…but endure it.”

                There was no other reply he could give except a nod.  Another kiss on his mouth, then David reached for a small porcelain bottle on the edge of the nightstand.  A perfumed scent wafted from it when he pulled open the top.  He tipped the bottle and a thin trail of clear, viscous fluid flowed into the shallow dip between Katsuya's ribs and belly button.   David replaced the cap and left the bottle within reach on the bed.

                He flinched when David’s finger slid into the perfumed oil, smoothing it downward to his thighs.  The surge of arousal came again, sending an electric-like sensation over his skin.  His chest rose and his fingers twisted in the silk sheets, as David made slow circles on his lower body but didn't touch him where he most wanted to be touched.  When David’s strong fingers kneaded the sensitive skin between his thighs and pelvis, he reacted with a sharp intake of breath.  He might have let out a curse.

                He felt himself growing hard.  David sat back against his heels.  Katsuya awoke from his haze for a moment when David pulled his lower body onto his lap, whimpering when a finger passed over the cleft of his ass.

                “Shhhh –“ David said, his ring finger tracing over Katsuya's opening, over and over again until he could feel the tension in him ease, however slightly.  “It’ll be all right.”

                The finger that finally breached the first ring of muscle was startling.  David paused, but didn't remove it when Katsuya’s body started to rebel.

                “I don’t want – “

                “Shhh –“

                He bit back the rest of his protest, taking in quick shallow breaths, trying to control his feeling of rising panic.  His eyes stung and he had to stop himself from crying out when David's oiled finger pushed its way further past the tight rim.  It hurt -- and the pain only grew as the finger continued to press in, stopping when it was knuckle deep.

                “Relax,” David told him.  “It’s more uncomfortable than painful.  It hurts because you’ve tightened up.”

                He thought of cursing David and telling him to take his place.  Instead, he reminded himself to breathe -- in and out, in and out -- concentrating on just that until he could feel the tension in his lower body start to leave.

                “Good boy,” David told him again.  He removed his finger slowly, and where it had been was a curious kind of emptiness that hurt a little.  Then he put it back in.  Over and over, until Katsuya's body became used to it.  Then he pressed a second finger in.  Katsuya screamed this time.

                “Be still or it’ll be worse.”

                It did get worse, as David's fingers spread and twisted deep inside – he swore those two fingers alone were enough to tear him apart, the way David moved them forcefully within him.  Words or perhaps another scream were working their way to the surface when David’s mouth covered his.  The kiss was a caress, unlike what was happening to him internally.  It was like wrapping a wound with silk.

                “Relax,” David said into his mouth.  “You’ll be fine.”

                The words weren’t comforting, in spite of his tone.  David gave him another kiss before his lips trailed over his chin and licked down his outstretched throat.  He could feel teeth against his neck move to his left shoulder -- a nibble at first, gentle biting at the small juncture where his neck and shoulder met.  Katsuya braced himself by instinct, wrapping his arms around David’s back.  The sensation was familiar; he'd felt it in his dream, remembering it just a moment before David's teeth sank into his flesh again.  The flash of agony that came was unexpectedly intoxicating.  Something released in his mind, in his body, in that very moment – like the capsule of a drug that had been snapped in half inside him -- and the effect of it was immediate.  It didn’t occur to him then that whatever discomfort or pain that had wracked his body was now deadened; in its place, he could only feel the euphoria that filled every crevice of his being. 

                David's teeth drove in deeper, then stilled, even as Katsuya felt something large and blunt push against him below - -something impossibly big trying to make its way inside.  The pressure was enormous.  His grip around David tightened -- he clung onto him, ever harder as the presence that was invading him grew stronger and deeper.  He let out a pained cry and tried to stifle the rest – but he wavered, whimpering.  His body was being split in two, and now something was threatening to eviscerate him.  He was crying – hot tears gathered and flowed down, disappearing into his hair.  All the minutest sensations were powerfully strong, existing in layers on top of his perception of being ripped in half while he was still alive.

                The drugged effect of the bite ebbed and left in its wake stabbing pain.  He could distinctly feel David inside him, intensely deep – it hurt so badly that he was paralyzed -- yet he wouldn’t have crawled away from it even if he could, although that was all he wanted to do.  His breathing caught again, and his body started to tense – reacting to the invasion by withdrawing the only way it could.  David  unclenched his teeth in Katsuya's shoulder;  the wound that remained  throbbed, but Katsuya could hardly feel it. 

                The bite that came next took him by surprise, jolting his body; David suddenly clamped down hard, teeth like razors cutting into his chest just above his right nipple.  There was barely any pain.  The shock of the bite was jarring, but what followed felt like an elixir flowing through him, a singular pleasure that made him moan and hook his legs up and around David’s waist.  Somehow, in the back of his mind, he understood David’s bites were poisoning him -- but he decided he didn’t care.  He would drink the tainted potion a thousand times, if it were offered a thousand times. 

                “David…,” he breathed, as he dug his fingers into David’s arms, gripping his skin as he was thrust into slowly, bringing the gradual burn throughout his body to a quick boil.  The fullness hurt, and the hurt intensified, but then it felt good as it filled the hollowness inside him.  To have another being…another living being... want him in this way, need him -- he didn’t dare to call it "love" -- it couldn’t be.  Even in the state he was in, this he knew. 

                And even as the pleasure once again faded, bringing back the reality of the pain – his muscles spasming, waking to the violent thrusting that went so deep inside that Katsuya felt he was about to break with just one more plunge inward -- he endured it.  He thought to himself – maybe it wasn’t such a terrible way to die.


	8. Chapter 8

            He knew he was in a dream, even as he climbed up onto a high wooden stool at the small round table that was no more than three hand’s width wide. He was back in the small apartment he and his father had lived in when he was four or five. First of dozen moves he would make before he turned twelve. Most of their things were still in boxes, shoved in corners of the living room and bedroom. Father didn’t have much left of his savings, and he'd said furniture would come later after steady paychecks started to arrive. They slept on fold-out cots bought at a discount store and their plastic dishes and cutlery came in bags from the grocery store. There was only one pot and one pan. Somehow Katsuya didn’t miss his former life -- the life he'd had when they stayed with his grandfather in a house that had more servants than family, the life with drawers full of new clothes and a full closet, when his bed had been big enough to sleep three.

            “I’ll walk you to school,” his father told him as he slid two fried eggs from the pan onto his plate. He was already nibbling on a slice of untoasted wheat bread with a smear of butter on it. “You have ten minutes. Did you do your homework?”

            He nodded. Homework for a kindergartner was reading a book with pictures. His father washed the pan in the sink and told him about a job the apartment superintendent had told him about that would square that month’s rent, something about fixing the air conditioning unit and the windows. Katsuya listened with only vague understanding as he ate. He'd noticed that once again his father hadn’t made any food for himself. He'd rarely seen him eat since they'd arrived in this new city and hastily settled in the little studio apartment more than a month ago.

            “Daddy, have the other egg,” he offered, shoving his plate away from him after he'd eaten one.

            His father put the washed pan in the plastic draining rack and turned back to him. “Daddy will eat something later. Finish your eggs.”

            Katsuya held onto the plastic fork in his fist. He didn’t really understand why he was upset, except that he was. He started to cry, startling his father who just stared at him at first, as tears flooded from his eyes. He cried harder as he was gathered into an embrace.

            “Please eat the egg…or you’ll die…,” he sobbed into his father’s shoulder. “Please eat the egg….”

            “I’ll be fine,” his father said, rocking him slightly. “I’m so sorry to give you this terrible life. I hope you'll forgive me some day.”

            “Please eat the egg…,” Katsuya heard himself beg, as he suddenly reentered the present. His eyes snapped open and he looked up at the shadows of twisted fabric and crystals dripping from the ceiling. His throat stung. He didn’t have to touch his face to know he'd been crying. Even when he was caught in it, he'd known it wasn’t a dream…it was a memory.

            It took him a few minutes to pull himself from under the duvet and to sit up against the headboard. He remained there, unmoving, his entire being swirling in the heaviness left in his heart, until he heard the heavy oak door to the suite open with a slight groan. He quickly wiped away the dampness on his cheeks with the heels of his hands as his visitor stepped into the room.

            “Kenji!” he exclaimed, his troubles instantly forgotten at the sight of the familiar face. He flung back the duvet and bounced off the bed.

            Shinohara seemed surprised by this enthusiastic greeting, as Katsuya dashed around the bed to embrace him.

            “I’m sorry…,” was the first and only thing Katsuya could think to say.

            Shinohara didn’t quite return the embrace, seeming hesitant about how to hold him, but finally he petted him on the head. “No need to apologize,” he said. “I was wrong to begin with….”

            “I made you break the rules for me – “

            Shinohara shook his head and smiled. He gestured for Katsuya to sit down on the padded bench in front of the mirror. “No one can make me do anything. Don’t worry.”

            Katsuya sat down and watched as Shinohara tidied his bed. They were in a new chamber that didn’t have a view of the sky through a skylight, but instead, was a three-room suite near David’s bedroom. He'd been moved there a week ago, after he'd been intimate with the master of the manor a few more times.

            “Did Master David send you today to reassure me that you're fine after that…?”

            Shinohara cast a smile over his shoulder as he pulled fresh sheets over the mattress and drew the corners taut. “Maybe. Master David rarely says what he feels. He shows what he means.”

            “You don’t hate him,” Katsuya said. It was a statement.

            “Of course not,” Shinohara said. “My father was loyal to him, just as his father was before him. We each had a choice of leaving, but we chose to stay and serve him.”

            “Why?” Katsuya asked. There was a constant chill in all the rooms of the manor, but he'd gotten used to it. Even as he sat on the bench with only a pair of loose, white linen pants on and nothing else – he didn’t notice the cold that was causing goosebumps on his bare arms.

            “There is…,” Shinohara began as he straightened and fluffed the pillow, “something powerful, yet vulnerable, about the master. His power draws you to him, and when he lets you in close enough, you can sense that delicate vulnerability, something we would all lay down our lives for. I'm not certain what it is exactly, it's just something you feel.”

            “I see,” Katsuya said, though he didn’t quite understand.

            “Would you leave now, if the front door were left open for you?”

            “Well…,” Katsuya began. He was surprised that he didn't have an instant reply. Perhaps months ago he would have known what his answer would be. Right then, he wasn’t entirely sure. Though he'd had a life before he came here, and still had friends and family probably worried about his sudden disappearance, he'd grown to favor his new life. He felt it was more fitting, as if he'd always been meant to be there. Most of the time he was alone and left to look at books in boxed in rooms like the one he was in, but somehow he felt more like he belonged here than in the world he'd been raised in. “I don’t know,” he finished, although this reply was not the whole truth.

            “Well, at least it wasn’t an emphatic, 'Yes, I would',” Shinohara said, as he left to enter the adjoining bath. Katsuya could hear him run the water as it splashed into the tub. When he re-emerged, his sleeves were drawn up. “Master David expects you for lunch. Please get dressed. I left your clothing in the adjoining room. Miss Marissa will fetch you in an hour.”

            “Thank you, Kenji.”

            Shinohara gave him a nod as he gathered the pile of sheets he'd pulled off the bed into his arms. He smiled once more and left.

            It was when he was alone again that Katsuya finally felt the chill of the room seep into his skin, causing him to shiver. He stepped out of his pants, leaving them at the foot of the bed, before he made his way to the bath.

 

            Lunch was grilled swordfish on a bed of brown rice. He was hungry, but he usually made himself eat slowly at meals. It was the only time he truly had company. Somehow, he'd grown familiar with the other companions’ presence and had come to like them, though no one had ever spoken to him. He liked watching them chat with each other with the kind of animated expressions that felt exaggerated. It was like watching a live performance where he couldn’t follow the conversation, but it was the only time of day he was reminded of the normalcy that existed outside his sedate, sequestered life only interrupted by brief visits from maids or butlers.

            On this occasion, however, he was the only companion. Seated to the right of David at the head of the table as usual, he noticed they were alone and there were no other place settings.

            “Where is everyone?” Katsuya asked, as he speared a morsel of food with his fork.

            “Do you prefer to dine with them?”

            “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I’m just used to them. The dining hall is so quiet now.”

            “They are mindless puppets who prattle on about mindless things,” David said. “If I had my way, I would be rid of them all.”

            It was the first time he'd had something to say about the companions, though his indifference to them was evident. Katsuya chewed on a leaf of boiled vegetable, trying to hide his amusement.

             “Are you not the master of this house?”

            “Even if I am, there are rules I cannot change.”

            “Why is that?” Katsuya's interest was piqued, though he knew he was greatly testing his boundaries by asking the question. “Who made these rules for you when you’ve been the only master here?”

            “That you’ve known.”

            “So there are other masters like you?” Intrigued, he lay down his fork.

            “Of course there are,” David said, though he looked as if he were becoming uncomfortable with the subject. “We won’t discuss this further.”

            As quickly as the excitement had come, it was extinguished. Katsuya picked up his fork again. Then David did something shocking. He reached for Katsuya’s hand and held it as they ate. The casualness of the gesture warmed Katsuya’s cheeks. He tried hard not to smile.

            “I will be away for two days,” David said finally.

            “Are you… _hunting_?”

            “No. I’ve been summoned to see my uncle, my father’s older brother, in Germany,” he said. “We have some family concerns to settle.”

            “You don’t sound pleased.”

            “Because I am not,” David said, and gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it. “Whenever he summons me, it is usually over something I've done of which he disapproves, or he wants me to participate in something I do not like or that I disagree with.”

            “We all have well-meaning but aggressive relatives like that,” Katsuya said, with the smile he'd forced onto his face to try and dissipate the growing frustration David was showing.

            “He isn’t well-meaning,” David said. He lifted Katsuya’s hand and gave it a kiss. “While I am gone, only take instructions from Kenji, understand?”

            “What do you mean?”

            The conversation had grown somber. There was something dire and almost desperate in David that was physically palpable, but Katsuya couldn’t begin to understand what it was.

            “Maybe this is nothing more than errant thoughts in my mind, but…,” David said, and lay Katsuya’s hand back down on the table.

            He twisted off his silver ring. Katsuya wondered at this, and his anxiety grew when David slipped it onto his left ring finger. It was too big and it hung loosely, the two ends not meeting. David molded the fit, overlapping the ends until it was snug on Katsuya’s finger.

            “Always have this on you," he said. "Even those in this house that don’t know you, understand the meaning of this ring.”

            Katsuya looked at it, turning it to study it. The feel of the heavy silver on his finger was foreign, like a weight he wasn’t used to.

            “Whoever wears this ring is under my personal protection,” David said. “And all those loyal to me will keep you under their protection.”

            “What are you saying?” Katsuya asked, his throat going dry at those words. “What is about to happen that would cause you to give me this…?”

            David shook his head. “No need for you to know,” he said. “This is just a precaution I'm taking.”

            “Then don’t go,” Katsuya said, snatching David’s hand in both of his. “If you have the instinct that something will go terribly wrong if you leave…then don’t go.”

            David shook his head again. “There are things in my life that are out of my control, just as your existence here in my life and in this house are out of your control. All we can do is bear it.”

            “Who…,” Katsuya began, looking down at the ring, “...have you given this ring to before?”

            Instead of answering, David leaned in and gave him a kiss on his mouth. “I will tell you about him someday,” he said. “Not today.” He leaned back and stood up, gave Katsuya a lingering touch on one cheek and left.

            Katsuya remained in his seat long after David had gone. Although he'd been alone often since being made an involuntary guest of this manor, this was the first time he'd truly felt alone. The last time he'd felt this terrible sensation bloom in his heart was when he was twelve, as he looked into his father's coffin.

 

            Shinohara brought him dinner in his room later that night and told him Master David had already departed for Germany.

            Katsuya caught the inquisitive eyes staring at his ring, but chose not to answer any questions.

            “I know you're worried,” Shinohara said later, looking at his barely touched meal, “but Master David will be fine. These family quarrels happen once in a long while. In a lineage as rich and as deep as his, there are bound to be conflicts. You have to trust him.”

            Katsuya only nodded, sipping at his glass of wine. “He said to only take instructions from you.”

            “Yes, he gave me an explicit order to take care of you.”

            “Why not tell Walter and the others as well?”

            Shinohara tilted his head and thought about this. “Walter oversees everything in this house. Perhaps Master David simply wanted someone to see to you and only you?”

            “I _am_ troublesome,” Katsuya agreed. Shinohara’s laugh made him feel a little better.

            “Compared to others, I think so, too. But better a feisty doll than a wind-up toy.”

            “I don’t think there's a difference between the two,” he said and smiled, “but thank you for taking care of me, Kenji.”

            “Would you like to play a game? Chess?”

            “I don’t know how to play.”

            Shinohara gestured at his untouched plate. “I’ll teach you, if you finish your dinner.”

            Although he still hadn’t any appetite, Katsuya nodded and picked up his fork. The thought of learning how to play chess was exciting. It touched on a memory of watching his father play on a stone board in the city park with retired old men. His father was good, and though Katsuya hadn’t known the meaning of the pieces being moved around the squares, he understood his father never lost. The proud feeling that swelled in his chest whenever his father won another game – he was feeling it again.

            “Are you good?” he asked Shinohara, as he sliced off a corner of his steak and ate it. The food was lukewarm since he'd neglected it for almost thirty minutes.

            “Of course,” Shinohara answered with a smile. “I was a chess master.”

            Katsuya let out a delighted chuckle. “So was my father.”

 

            They didn’t play. After two hours, Katsuya was still just trying to remember the rules and how the pieces moved, but at least by the night’s end he was no longer plagued by anxiety or the thought of David being absent from the house. After Shinohara left him, he read until he could barely keep his eyes open. He had just fallen asleep when Walter came into his room. The old man looked troubled as he lay clothing -- Katsuya’s own confiscated clothing from his luggage -- at the foot of the bed.

            “Dress,” Walter said, his voice stern and hurried. “We have to go.”

            Driven by the urgency of Walter’s instructions, Katsuya slipped out of bed and took off his linen pajamas. “Where are we going?”

            “Somewhere safe,” Walter replied. “Hurry. I’ll tell you everything after we leave.”

            Though Katsuya’s mind was in a tangle, he moved quickly to dress. His plain shirt and slacks felt alien and coarse. He was used to the finer clothing he'd been wearing for months. He only hesitated when he was stepping into his shoes. He remembered David’s words that he was to only take instructions from Shinohara.

            “David…said to only….”

            Walter shook his head and cut him off. “You don’t think Master David trusts me?”

            The persistent sensation that he was disobeying David remained, even as he nodded and followed Walter out of his room and into the hallway. He didn’t know what time it was until he passed the library and caught a glimpse of the grandfather clock through the glass doors. It was sometime after two in the morning.

            “Where are you taking me?” Katsuya whispered.

            “Do not speak until we are out of the house,” he was told.

            Katsuya trailed Walter closely, but often glanced behind him. The darkness that he left behind seemed to beckon him to return, though his mind told him to do as Walter asked. The dimly lit halls were confusing, and he could barely make out the shape of the old man ahead of him, turning to the left and right until they were in the main hallway; the same one where he had been welcomed into the house. The only light came from the lamp posts lined along both sides of the driveway that led up to the house.

            “Where are you taking me?” Katsuya asked again, this time his voice was louder.

            “You are in danger here,” Walter said, opening the front door. When Katsuya didn’t immediately follow, Walter seized him by the wrist and pulled him along. “After we leave the grounds, I’ll take you somewhere that he won’t find you.”

            “He…?” Katsuya asked, stumbling along. “David?”

            His question wasn’t answered -- even as he was shoved into the passenger side of his car that had been parked in front of the house. Walter started the engine and put it in drive, stepping on the gas so hard that the vehicle catapulted forward, the tires emitting a loud squeal. Katsuya was thrown against his seat, barely able to sit properly.

            “Tell me where you're taking me!” he screamed over the roar of the engine. He braced himself against the dashboard and the side of the car, contemplating whether he should try to wrestle the steering wheel from Walter. Then the headlights lit up a lone figure standing in front of the steel gates at the end of the driveway.

            “It’s Kenji! Slow down!” Katsuya yelled, when he could see the figure clearly. He was confused and scared when he realized Shinohara had a shotgun cradled in his arms.

            As the car sped toward him, with one side of the gate opening slowly, Shinohara brought up the shotgun and aimed it at them.

            “Stop! Stop!” Katsuya shouted, leaning in, trying to pull on the steering wheel to veer the car from Shinohara’s path.

            Walter shoved him away and the car only picked up speed.

            There was a deafening sound that filled the small cab of the car. There were two shots. It could have been three. Showers of glass blew inward, followed by the hard crush of the car going into the stone pillar beside the gate. Katsuya lost a few seconds, blacking out until pain from his left shoulder where it had slammed into the dashboard brought him around.

            He gradually became aware of the sound of glass from the windshield coming loose and falling. Then footsteps. He groaned and sat back, shaking some shards of glass from his hair as he turned to his left. Though most of Walter was shrouded in the dark, he could see the old man’s face…or rather, half of it. The left side was gone. What remained of Walter stared forward through the missing windshield – his mouth slightly open, as if he were surprised by the shot that had killed him.

            Katsuya gasped and balled himself up in the bucket seat when Shinohara walked up, the shotgun in one hand.

            “You should’ve listened to Master David,” Shinohara said, after he tore his gaze away from Walter’s body and looked at Katsuya.


	9. Chapter 9

 

                Though it had been hours, in his mind he could still hear the thunderous echo of the gun in the enclosed space of the car, and experience the impact that had followed.  An old man with a pronounced hunchback had assured him that although his shoulder was badly bruised, there was nothing broken.  He'd immobilized Katsuya's shoulder with a make-shift sling.  Shinohara, still cradling the shotgun in one arm, watched from the doorway without a word – not even replying to the old man whenever he spoke.

                The old man left, shuffling off, dragging his slippered feet on the worn wooden floor.

                “Where…is this place?” Katsuya finally asked, looking up from where he'd been staring at his hands in his lap.  His fingertips were trembling.  He hadn't been able to stop shaking since Shinohara had pulled him from the wrecked car, put him in another sedan that had been parked just outside the gate, and driven him quickly through the night.  Paralyzed with fright and shock, all Katsuya was able to do was make himself as small as possible in the passenger seat, anchoring himself to the moment by turning the ring on his finger.

                “My father’s house,” Shinohara said.  “That was my father who saw to you.”

                “I…don’t understand anything…,” Katsuya said, finding more strength as he spoke.  He sat up straighter in the wicker rocking chair.  “Why did you kill Walter?”

                Shinohara’s shook his head, his expression cold, solemn.  The room was dimly lit by two pillar candles burning inside clear glass vases.  Their light and the contrasting shadows emphasized Shinohara’s grimace, worrying Katsuya that his questions would make him angry.  They were near a bayou somewhere – he'd caught sight of water through the dripping branches of the willows as they'd parked at the small house.  They'd driven off-road for more than a mile, and there didn’t appear to be any neighbors.  There wasn’t anywhere he could go, even if he could slip past Shinohara and get free.

                “Walter betrayed Master David,” Shinohara said now, his voice steady.

                “He said…I was in danger....”

                “Walter betrayed Master David,” Shinohara said again.  “You should've remembered Master David’s instructions and refused to go with him.”

                The old man returned to the room, carrying a white basin with a hand towel draped over the rim.  Shinohara leaned the shotgun against the doorframe and pulled up a chair to sit by the door.

                “You shot him….” Katsuya paused, struggling to sort out his thoughts and questions.  Frustration welled up in his chest, and he wanted to scream his demand for answers, instead of being told cryptic words that explained nothing.  He calmed down when the old man dipped the towel into the water, wrung it out, then patted Katsuya’s cheeks lightly.  The towel was warm and his face stung as it was being tended to.

                “Just cleaning the small nicks and scratches caused by the glass,” the old man said, summoning a smile.  “You'll be fine.”

                They fell silent for a while, just listening to the sound of the water as the towel was rinsed and wrung. 

                Then Shinohara spoke. “Tell him, Father.  He needs to know, though Master will be furious that we spoke for him.”

                “Master David becomes furious at things that often don't matter,” the old man said with a chuckle, taking Katsuya’s chin with his thumb and forefinger and turning his head to study the cuts on his other cheek.

                “Tell me,” Katsuya said.  “Please.”

                The old man left the towel floating in the basin, the drops of blood it'd collected starting to dissolve in the water.  He shoved it to the side and took Katsuya’s ringed left hand into both of his. His bone-thin hands felt leathery and cold as his fingers stroked Katsuya’s.

                “I was a boy, barely knee high to my father when I met the man to whom Master David gave this ring a generation ago,” he said.  “My father escorted the master and his human lover -- like yourself -- back then.  Once they were in Istanbul, strolling through a market.  There was a man who made rings and bracelets there.  The lover -- I’ve forgotten his name now -- stopped to look at a strip of silver the jewelry maker was hammering on an iron anvil.  Master had the silver made into a ring for him as a gift.”

                There was a pause as the old man continued to run the tip of his finger over the textured ring on Katsuya's hand.  “The man was young -- younger -- than yourself by three or four years.  At that time, the master himself was also young; he had only inherited the manor  two decades before.  He was lonely and often refused to keep company even with the companions, until he met this human…Christopher.  His name was Christopher.  He was an infant, just weeks old, when he was originally brought to the house, the result of the contract Master David’s father had made with Christopher’s father.”

                The old man glanced down at the ring, noting the way it gleamed in the candlelight, and smiled.  “They met when Christopher was fifteen and was presented as a companion.  Most male companions do not live past twenty-five.  Being fed on, even if only on occasion, shortens their life span into only a handful of years.”

                “I am twenty-six, going on twenty-seven in four months,” Katsuya said, unintentionally interrupting. 

                “You were collected late,” the old man said.  “Your father hid you for many years.  If you hadn’t responded to the beckoning of your grandfather’s letter....”

                The thought that he had disregarded every sacrifice his father had made to keep him safe, hurt.  All the suffering they'd endured, and all the times he'd resented his father for moving them from one place to another after he'd found a school and a home that he'd grown to love -- in the end, it had all been in vain.  He'd disobeyed his father’s wish and had come to the one place his father had worked so hard to protect him from.  He drew in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard not to let the realization consume him.

                The old man patted his hand.  “It was fate that brought you to Master David.  You’ve brought him a priceless gift of happiness that no other could.  Even if the time would be short.”

                “Christopher did,” Katsuya said.  “What happened to Christopher? Did he pass away…naturally?”

                “He did not die from a human affliction,” the old man said.  “He died in terrible pain, over days….”

                Katsuya’s eyes widened.  He hadn’t expected that reply.

                “Master David’s lineage has been well guarded over centuries, but most of his kind has died.  He has extended family – such as those he was summoned to see in Germany.  His uncle is the current head.  He sets and enforces the rules – sometimes even against the will of his own family."

                The old man let go of Katsuya’s hand.  “It is against their law to favor those who aren't one of their own – with their long lived lifetimes.  The length of an entire human life is comparable to only a few weeks to them.  The law was made to protect their kind.  Master David’s father lost his will to live after his beloved passed away from a human disease.  Master M posted Walter’s father, whose post now Walter had inherited -- to oversee our master since childhood, to be certain his younger brother’s sole heir would not be vulnerable to the same outcome, as well as to be certain he would follow the clan’s laws.”

                “David’s uncle…murdered...Christopher, to prevent David from being happy…? What kind of mad world do they live in?” Katsuya asked in a whisper.  The reality of everything started to sink in at once, the uncomfortable truth that was like poison, clouding his mind.  He leaned his elbows on his knees and held his head, trying desperately to grab hold of himself and understand the meaning of what was happening to him.

                “Master M made an example of Christopher to Master David,” the old man said, running his fingers through Katsuya’s hair, attempting to soothe him.  “He was tortured and devoured over days.  He was only allowed death when Master David agreed never to love favor another mortal.  However, now it appears to be happening again.”

                “David doesn’t love me.  He was just lonely and I gave him company that he desperately wanted.”

                “Master David always knew where you were, even after your father fled with you.  Sometimes he visited you, though you never knew it.  He allowed you to have your life, and instead of sending his men to take you, he sent you the letter because he wanted you to come to him.  This isn’t a choice that was ever given to anyone else.”

                “Then Walter reported me -- us -- to M, and now….”

                “Walter was instructed to take you to Master M, to have you put to death in the same way as Christopher, to punish Master David.  Do you understand? Master David was allowed to take sexual partners in the hopes of creating another being like himself, and to spare no love for inferior beings like ourselves with fragile bodies and short lives.  Eventually he will be paired with another clan member to strengthen and populate the thinning bloodline.”

                Katsuya was crying – he didn’t want to, but he couldn’t stop.  Even in the dim light, he watched as his tears fell and dotted the floor.  He was struck with a need to see David that caused him more pain than the knowledge of what was to happen to him.  The old man stroked his hair a little longer, then picked up the basin and shuffled out of the room.  Katsuya was sobbing by the time Shinohara took his father's place and gathered him into his arms.

                “Don’t be afraid.”

                “I’m not afraid…,” Katsuya finally said, leaning his head on Shinohara’s shoulder.

                “As long as we stay near water, it’s harder for beings like them to track where you are,” Shinohara said.  “It blurs their senses.”

                “Will I see David again?”

                “I don’t know.  I received word from him on my phone an hour before Walter tried to snatch you from the manor.  I was given the order to kill him – that was the only way to keep you truly safe.  Walter was never loyal to Master David, and would have cut your throat if he'd realized he couldn't deliver you to Master M.  Anything to get you away from Master David.”

                “I don’t want to be here and put you and your father in danger,” Katsuya said, calmed by Shinohara’s tight embrace.

                Shinohara laughed softly.  “Well, Master M will learn about Walter by sunrise – if he doesn't already know.  He has other servants loyal to him at the estate who will report to him.  No one knows this place, not even Master David.  Grandfather and father built it in case it was time for our generation to retire from service and for us to completely disappear from their world and their reach."

                “I can’t hide here forever,” Katsuya said.  “And neither can you.”

                “We will take each day as it comes,” Shinohara said, his arms tightening around Katsuya as the slightest sliver of light from the breaking dawn was seeping through the tightly shuttered window.  It was a reminder of the long night they had just endured.  Shinohara continued to stroke Katsuya’s back, but appeared exhausted.

                “Then you will stay with me?”

                “Yes,” Shinohara said.  “I will protect you with my life.”


	10. Chapter 10

 

                Two days went by quietly, almost too normally.  Life was casual in the small, modest house.  The old man had a garden that he tended to for most of the day.  Shinohara sat with Katsuya in whichever room he was in, the shotgun always within arm’s reach, and checked his phone often.  He said he was waiting for a message from David.

            “Will you ever be able to go back there again?” Katsuya asked him in the kitchen.  Shinohara had set a kettle on the stove and was browning two pieces of bread in the toaster oven.

            “I would like to,” Shinohara said.  “Although I'm under Master David’s personal orders, I'm still fond of many of the people who work there.  Most of them are like me, their jobs passed down from one generation to another.  We've known each other since we were children.”

            “I don’t understand why you'd stay at a place that -- ” Katsuya caught himself, realizing he'd nearly blurted out the incident when Shinohara had been punished for telling him too much.

            “I know the world has changed and we're no longer fettered to…let’s call it an establishment.  With my father and his father and his father before him all part of this establishment, it's been like being part of an extended family.”

            “But you aren’t family.  You're stripped of your identity as servants.  Myself and those like me -- and I dare say those like you -- are disposable.”

            The kettle hissed quietly, the water beginning its boil inside the battered tin pot.  Shinohara looked at it, instead of at Katsuya.  “Anywhere in the world we go,” he finally said, “we're all disposable.  We hold our hands out for meager checks that we work hours for, making someone else wealthy.  We're no more prized than cattle on a farm that will be euthanized and replaced when we're no longer profitable.”

            The timer on the oven gave a little ping as the knob clicked to ‘0’ and turned off.  Shinohara used a folded dish towel to pull the door and rack open. 

            “And being David’s servant is better – “ Katsuya began, more as a statement than a question.

            “Yes,” Shinohara said, putting the toast on a plate and turning to place it in front of Katsuya.  He moved a covered butter dish already on the table beside the plate.  “He…and his family...take care of us, from birth until death.  I've never been hungry or cold.  I was educated.  My father will live here to do as he likes until his last days.  Perhaps I will too.”

            Shinohara turned back to the stove, this time to turn it off as the kettle started to whistle.  With his left hand he poured hot water into a ceramic cup with a tea bag already sitting in it, and with his right he reached for a half full jar of raspberry jam.  He brought both back to the table and set them down beside the butter dish.

            “We're content,” Shinohara said, patting Katsuya’s hand.

            “And now, because of me…you could lose it all….”

            “Anything could take it all away,” Shinohara said, giving him a smile.  “I'm still loyal to Master David and will serve him and his House for as long as he or I exist.  What is important to him, is important to me.  Current matters are… _complicated_...because David has broken a rule, but I believe pieces will fall where they're supposed to fall eventually.”

            “You're very optimistic,” Katsuya said, returning the warm smile. 

            Shinohara squeezed Katsuya’s hand, then let go, and straightened.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it again.  “I’ll be back in two hours,” he said.  “Master David has asked me to return to the manor.”

            Panic surged through Katsuya, turning his face white.  His eyes grew large as he shook his head. “You can’t -- you can’t go back -- you killed Walter -- and -- and -- ”  He was stammering, the terror he'd felt growing quickly, gripping his chest and reaching his throat.  He felt the same as he had when not that long ago, David had told him he was leaving.

            “No one saw what I did,” Shinohara said,  “and even if I was seen, everyone is loyal to Master David.  You wear his ring.”

            Katsuya got up, snatching at the hand that was pulling away from him.  “You can’t go --  something bad will happen. I just know it -- please.”

            Shinohara took Katsuya’s face in his hands, his thumb brushing away an errant tear. Overwhelming fright was making Katsuya quiver. “Nothing bad will happen,” he said,  “I promise.  I'm to see Master David for further instructions, nothing more.”

            “Then call him.  Don’t go. Please….”

            “I would never abandon you,” he said, giving Katsuya a kiss on his forehead.  “I promise I'll be back.  Please see to Father for me.  He would stay out in the garden all night if he could.”

            Katsuya paused, then after a long sigh, he finally nodded.  He was rewarded with another quick peck on his forehead before Shinohara let him go.

            “I made the jam,” Shinohara said.  “Tell me how great it was with butter on your toast when I get back later.”

            Katsuya managed a strained smile and nodded as he watched Shinohara leave.  He remained standing as he listened to him make his way through the living room and out the door.  It was then he realized that Shinohara had left the shotgun leaning against the kitchen counter.  He stared at it, almost seeing his outline standing next to it like an odd phantom. 

            It was long after he'd heard the engine turn over and the car being driven away that Katsuya finally made himself sit back down.  He hadn’t any appetite, but he felt obliged to eat the late breakfast of toast and tea that Shinohara had made for him. 

            “You’d better come back,” he said into the air as he spread butter on a piece of toast,  “or I will never forgive you!”

 

            He watched the clock on the stove, green digital numbers on a dark panel.  His plate, empty except for crumbs, still sat on the table next to his mug that only held a cold, soggy tea bag.  He sat where Shinohara had left him more than three hours ago, his chest tight, his tension growing steadily since the two hour mark had passed, the worry in his heart compounded by helplessness and regret.  He should've tried harder to keep Shinohara there with him. 

            He was still deep in his doubts and thoughts when he was startled by the old man resting a hand on his shoulder.

            “He will be fine,” the old man said.  “Master David favors him like no other.  He is well protected.”

            “But he's returning to the place where a rule has been broken – “

            “Master David would not have called for him unless he was certain of his safety.”

            “Then why am I still here? If it's safe to return, then he should've taken me with him.”

            “Master David’s affection for you is different,” the old man said, shuffling toward the door that led to the stairs.  “Perhaps you will never be safe again.”

            The words, the warning, hung heavily in the air.  Katsuya was still thinking about it when he heard the sound of a car pulling up to the cabin.  He forgot everything in an instant, shoved his chair back, stood and dashed through the house and out the front door.  Shinohara hadn’t even released his seatbelt when Katsuya excitedly cleared the few steps down from the porch in two leaps.  He threw his arms around him as soon as the car door opened. “You're so late -- ”

            “Sorry,” Shinohara said.  “Had to make sure the bike runs.  I’ve not ridden it in almost a year.”

            Katsuya noticed then that there was a motorcycle strapped to the flat bed of the truck Shinohara was driving. 

            “Why a motorcycle?”

            Their embrace loosened and Katsuya circled the rear of the truck, studying the vintage-looking motorcycle that looked like it'd been scraped together from a few other bikes.  It leaned to one side on its kickstand, but remained upright, tethered as it was to the truck bed by several thick cargo straps.

            “I built it over two and half years,” Shinohara said proudly.  “Something to do when there was nothing to do.”

            “You didn’t answer my question.”

            Shinohara pressed the truck keys into Katsuya’s hand.  “This is yours.  I also have a phone for you, but you can't use it to call out or send messages, it will only receive messages.  Master David wants you to have these, and if you get a text to leave as soon as possible, you're to get in this truck and go where a pre-programmed GPS location tells you.”

            “I thought I was safe here, near the water.”

            “You can’t stay here forever.”

            “Where will the GPS take me?”

            “I don’t know.”

            Katsuya’s fist closed on the keys so hard that the metal bit into his palm.  His anxiety was returning again.  He immediately understood why Shinohara had brought his motorcycle with the truck.

            “You're going back to the mansion…,” Katsuya whispered.

            “Master M is there now,” Shinohara said, forcing a smile on his face.  “He expects the full staff to be present.  Master David told him that I'd been sent away on an errand for the past couple of days.  If I went missing again after having returned, it would probably cause unwanted attention.  Understand?“

            “M is there….”

            “He will have his tantrum when he finds you gone, then perhaps install another ‘watcher’ among us to shadow Master David, but eventually, you'll be forgotten. Then, maybe, Master David will be able to find you again.”

            Katsuya shook his head.  “No.  That wasn’t what was meant by all of this.”

            There was a pause, then Shinohara put an arm around Katsuya’s shoulders and walked him back to the house.  Katsuya was still lost in thought as Shinohara sat him back down at the small dining room table.

            “Master David is releasing you back to your former life,” Shinohara said finally, as he placed the kettle back on the stove.  “He will not seek you out again, knowing he could be watched.  He wants you to forget your brief life here and – “

            “No!” Katsuya shouted so loud that it stunned Shinohara.  “It’s not supposed to be this way!”

            “Katsuya – “

            “You can’t simply pluck me out of my life, have me live another one, then just shove me back in the old one again!”

            “Katsuya, don’t you want to go back? You nearly stormed out a day after you got to the House.  This way you're being spared a life of loneliness and an early death.  You've been given an opportunity that no one in any of our lifetimes has been gifted with.  Even if you have come to love Master David and stay with him, the brief lifetime you have left will be full of danger.  Do you want to live this way, expecting to die at any moment?”

            “It is what my life was meant to be.”

            “That's an answer from someone who has given up.”

            “Perhaps it is,” Katsuya said, his eyes down.  “I know I won't be happy without him.” He looked up.  “Or without you.  Please let me stay.”

            The unexpected reply shook Shinohara.  He had to turn away quickly to hide it. “You're no longer meant to be here.”  He snapped the stove off.  “If you love Master David, even a little, please live.”

            He left the kitchen quickly before Katsuya could answer.  The conversation had shaken him in a way that it shouldn't have, and it unsettled him.  There were a lot of things he couldn’t put a name to – such as how he felt and what he was thinking. He did know that he was on the brink of something, but he refused to let the thought come.  If he had, then he would be betraying his master.

               

            Shinohara made a meal of vegetables gathered from the garden and fish that had been caught a week ago and frozen.  In spite of the uncomfortable afternoon and the conversation that had been left unfinished, the rest of the day felt usual.  Katsuya cooked the vegetables, while Shinohara cleaned and prepared the fish.  They exchanged stories about their first attempts to cook in cramped dorm rooms at their universities, and for a while the severity of the situation was forgotten and they were like two old friends, content and laughing.  It only turned somber again when they and the old man sat down at the table and began to eat.

            “I think you should resign from your post, Kenji,” the old man said, stirring his sliced potatoes with his fork.  “Times have changed.  You should be your own person, instead of continuing on to be like me.”

            “I’m happy where I am and with what I do,” Shinohara said.  “I'll leave when I feel there’s nothing else there for me.”

            “That's not what I am saying,” the old man said, straightening in his seat, his ashen eyebrows furrowing deeply in the loose skin of his forehead.  “There has never been anything there for you.”

            Shinohara speared a piece of fish and ate it.  “There was always something there for me,” he said, grinning.  “I just never told you what it was.”

            As if it were a cue that only the two of them understood, the old man sighed and began to talk about the garden.  Katsuya watched the exchange with confusion and fascination, but asked no questions.  He didn’t know what to ask.

 

            Darkness still lingered outside, and though Katsuya woke earlier than usual, just by the feel of the house, he knew that Shinohara was gone.  Barefoot and only wearing thin linen pajamas, he went outside and saw the truck still parked where it had been, but the motorcycle was gone --  the cargo straps that had once held it neatly bundled on the top porch step.  He shivered in the chilly air, but didn’t notice, only knowing his chest hurt as he stared at the empty truck bed.  He stood there until he felt a tug on his arm, and turned to see that the old man had risen and was gesturing for him to come back inside.

            “Let him finish his work,” the old man said, shuffling over to the stove.  “My wife passed away when he was only three.  Naturally, I couldn't leave him alone or my job, and it was inconceivable to send him away to be raised by my brother.  He is all I have left.”

            The old man refilled the kettle, set it on the stove and turned it on.  He came to the table and sat across from Katsuya.  “Master David let me bring him to the estate and had him raised there, as if he were his own.  He sat by him at every meal.  A tutor was brought in for him on the days that Master David didn’t read to him from one of the books from his vast library.”

            “And he sent him overseas to university,” Katsuya said.

            “Master David’s wish was for Kenji to leave the estate and to let my duties to him end with me,” the old man said.  “But you can see why Shinohara stubbornly refused.”

            “I think…I might feel the same.”

            “But Shinohara knows too many secrets,” the old man said.  “Perhaps even more than I do.”

            “Like what else besides loyalty keeps him there?”

            Unexpectedly, the old man laughed.  “I know what that is,” he said.  “The boy doesn’t know how to lie or hide things very well.  Master David never taught him how to be deceptive.”

            “Will you tell me?” Katsuya’s interest was piqued, he was excited for any bit of news.

            The old man reached out and took Katsuya’s ringed hand in both of his, and glanced over at the white soup bowl on the kitchen table where Shinohara had deposited the truck key and a small clam-shell phone.  Katsuya followed the old man’s gaze, but didn’t understand its significance.

            “I can’t,” the old man finally said, “because if you knew, then things…more things would change.”

            “So it's about me,” Katsuya said cautiously.  “Shinohara’s secret is about me.”

            The old man only patted his hand again as the kettle behind him started to whistle.  He smiled as he got up to tend to it, saying nothing more that day.

 

            Four days went by without Shinohara.  Not a call, not a message, not even a brief return to the cabin.  Katsuya would look at the phone wistfully, wishing for the little darkened screen to light up and tell him something, anything.  The wait was agonizing and the scenarios that played in his mind didn’t have happy endings.

            On the fourth day, at nearly ten at night, the phone finally came to life – its shell vibrating and clacking on the surface of his nightstand where he always placed it when he went to bed.  His hands shook as he flipped opened the phone.

            _Leave. Now._

            Two simple words in black text against the gray background.  No other instructions followed.  He sat in bed, glaring at the screen even after it had gone dark. 

            “You must go now,” a voice in the doorway said, startling him.  The old man was leaning against the door with a phone in his hand.  He might not have had the same two word message, but he knew.  Everyone but himself understood the situation.

            “But….”

            “You must go now,” the old man repeated, his voice harder edged this time.

            Katsuya felt he was holding something back.  He nodded and slid out of bed.  The old man watched as he quickly changed into a cotton shirt with long sleeves and a pair of battered jeans.  As he went downstairs, he slipped on an old leather jacket that had once belonged to Shinohara, one that he'd given to him to wear outside.  The keys were still in the bowl and he took them as he dashed by the kitchen table.  He only looked back once when he was opening the front door to leave.  The old man wasn’t there.

            “Thank you,” Katsuya said anyway, before going to the truck and starting it.  The dashboard lit up and the GPS in the center console came to life.  After it booted, the screen asked if he would like to go to “Location 1”.  After he tapped "yes" on the screen, it displayed an address in Canada well over 200 miles away. 

            Katsuya looked at the house once more, the familiar forlorn sensation coming over him again.  This time, however, he told himself he would not let it take him over and then have to wait for it to pass.  He cleared the screen and tapped in a new address -- the address that he'd memorized after he received the mysterious letter to his grandfather all that time ago, beckoning him to an estate that had changed him forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as gift/exercise based on a red-eyed David SIM from Tomoko Itou. Nothing is canon here, except that all the characters are herded into one place and played with.
> 
> Edited by Mycean.


End file.
